


Nights in White Satin

by AGPrentice



Series: The Missing Enthusiasm Collection [4]
Category: Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman
Genre: Consensual Sex, Enthusiasm, Enthusiastic Consent, Erotic Poetry, F/M, Honeymoon, Kissing, Loss of Virginity, Married Couple, Married Sex, Oral Sex, Sensuality, Soulmates, Wedding Night, sexual awakening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:09:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 122,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24813604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AGPrentice/pseuds/AGPrentice
Summary: My personal take on Michaela and Sully's wedding night and honeymoon, based on the tiny clues left in the show, showing the evolution of their relationship, on both physical and emotional levels.*Warning* I've tried to stay in-character  and coherent, while avoiding crude descriptions. But still, if sex scenes, even between people who are lawfully married and fully commited to each other, bother you, then you shouldn't read.This story might also give you unrealistic expectations for your love life IRL. Sorry guys, it's only fan*fiction*.However I hope this couple's relationship inspires you to expect and deserve respect at all times, and that sex should never be a due, whether it's casual sex or an established relationship.Constructive criticism is most welcome.NSFW material for some chapters.
Series: The Missing Enthusiasm Collection [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1789849
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	1. For the First Time

**Author's Note:**

> Night in White Satin
> 
> by
> 
> A. G. Prentice
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman. The rights to those characters and to the show belong to the creators of the show, to CBS and the Sullivan Company.
> 
> A/N: As I am re-posting this story, I'm using the opportunity to reword some paragraphs, so even if you are already familiar with NIWS, you can enjoy it again by discoverings the changes I made ;)

_Friday May, 20th, 1870_

Finally, _finally_ , the time had come for Michaela and Sully to fully give themselves to each other. Finally, they were lying together on the fabulous bed Sully had so lovingly hand-carved – _for the first time_.

They were locked in an intense kiss that went on and on, their lips unable to break contact, with the rhythmic lurching of the train giving their embrace a highly erotic motion that Michaela felt to her core. Her heart was racing and beating faster with each new caress from her new husband. Sully's weight was pressing her into the soft mattress, further stealing her breath away and she wondered fleetingly whether she would eventually faint from sheer excitement.

Michaela had already experienced the warmth, the thrill of desire – no matter how embarrassing and alien it had felt to her in the early months of their relationship – but it had never reached the powerful point she felt tonight, almost smothering her in its mighty grip. Nothing, not even the few temptations they had previously faced, had prepared her for its uncontrollable flames, and her deeply ingrained need for keeping the control did not like this one bit.

Yet, in her virginal ignorance, all she could do was to trust Sully to be true to his word about taking things _ever so easy_ and to surrender herself totally to him, taking her cues from him about what she was supposed to do. Between her mother's warnings about the unpleasantness of the wifely duty, Dorothy's well-meaning but hard to follow advice of just letting instinct take over, and the somewhat confusing, contrary messages the aforesaid instinct was sending her, she couldn't figure out what to do. And in this occurrence, her helplessness bordered on fear: what if Sully was to find her hopelessly inadequate? What if despite all his efforts, his patience, he ended up being disappointed in her? She would not bear it…

Sully, too, was waging his own little war with instinct. The sole knowledge that he was finally allowed to make this woman _his_ in the biblical sense was nearly overpowering his self-control. His heart was thundering in his chest, its heavy pounding reverberating in every cell of his body like a loud chorus of Cheyenne drums. But he had made her a promise, which he fully intended to keep even if he were to collapse under the pressure.

He tore himself away to discard the buckskin wedding shirt, exposing his chest oiled with sweat, and took a moment to look at Michaela, trying to gauge her state of mind. He wanted her to trust him, and to enjoy that first experience enough to overcome her reserve and shed that Boston upbringing which had taught her to smother her natural sensuality to the point where she was afraid of her own feelings.

Michaela would probably never fully fathom the amount of patience and self-restraint he'd had to muster on the few occasions she had let down her guard enough to allow him a bit more than a soft peck. Nor would she be able to comprehend the overwhelming, deep-seated need he felt for her, for everything she was to him – beyond best friend, beyond family, even maybe beyond soul mate – a sentiment that even the greatest poets had neither named nor described.

Now, the time had come to truly and fully join with her, heart, soul and… _body_. He had fantasized about this moment a thousand times, but never in his wildest dreams had he anticipated he would ache with desire so much that it would hurt physically. He had always thought her to be incredibly beautiful, yet today, her beauty had shined brighter than ever, her angelic face almost transfigured from the glow of happiness. He almost doubted that his love was the reason of her radiance and was tempted to pinch himself to ascertain he was not having some extraordinary dream.

But no, this was real. This was true. Now… now, they were alone. _Finally_ …

Sully slowly lowered himself alongside his bride, giving them both some time to catch their breath. Gently, slowly, he pulled the bodice of her dress down, inch by inch, and dared graze the swell of her breasts along the plunging décolleté with feather-light, tantalizing touch. Her skin was so soft under the pad of his fingers that he could barely repress a shudder.

Instead of breathing more calmly after that long, sensual, overwhelming kiss, Michaela only gasped at the sensations he was creating and shivered quite violently as well. The pleasurable sensations he was awakening were too new, too raw, too forbidden for her inexperienced body, and she recoiled in spite of herself, the scarlet blush that stained her face and neck neatly discernible even in the shaded daylight. She cast Sully a pleading look, mutely asking for understanding.

Sully swallowed hard. He had truly hoped not to get this kind of reaction from her this early, when they were not even entirely unclothed yet. He *would* have to go real _nice_ , real _easy_ … He took a steadying breath.

What Michaela did not know was that Sully had anticipated that even her complete trust in him might not be enough to fully let go of her inhibitions. During the past few nights, he had worked on strengthening his endurance, using a combination of meditation and exercises. He certainly had wished he would not need to rely on these too much, but now, he realized he had been right to do so. They would both need his stamina and patience.

Before she had time to mutter some excuse, he took her lips for a light, reassuring kiss, lingering just long enough to get her to respond. Then he took her hand and pulled her up to a sitting position, where he proceeded to free her hair from its elaborate hairdo, kissing her now and then. The shining tresses tumbled onto her shoulders one by one in large curls, until all the flowers, pearls and pins were gone, and he could run his fingers through the coppery strands. Touching her silky, lustrous hair was a sensual, gratifying pleasure in itself, something of which he would never tire.

Now in more familiar territory, Michaela was able to relax somewhat under his tender ministrations, and did not flinch when she felt his hands return to her back, fumbling again with the laces. Sensing that he was having trouble, she asked: "Do you need help?"

He paused and looked at her. "Yep. Tell me how to remove this thing. Heck, it ain't a corset, it's more like a chastity belt!"

Michaela blushed at his choice of words. "I think I saw my medical bag among our luggage. You could use bandage scissors…" her voice trailed off, as she was too bashful yet to express out loud how anxious she suddenly felt to be freed from the constricting contraption, eager to breathe more freely, and yet more than a little nervous at the thought that Sully was about to see her - _naked_. He certainly had seen her before in various states of undress, but never with absolutely nothing on! What if he did not like her figure?

Sully made a short work of cutting the remaining lacing of both her dress and corset, and then waited for a sign from her that he could continue. Moved by his consideration of her feelings, she gave a tiny nod and took a deep breath to steady her nerves, willing herself to remain calm and allow him to move things along and do as he pleased. Her cheeks still flaming red, she averted her gaze, not ready yet to face neither lust or disappointment in his eyes when he would behold her nude form for the first time.

But Sully did not want her to act resigned and prude. He wanted her to be at ease with him, to be comfortable with his desire, _and her own_. He was certain that, despite her inexperience and reserve, she _did_ want him. Probably not as intensely as he desired her, but there were unmistakable signs. So he lifted her chin to force her to look at him.

"Michaela, look at me… if something don' feel right to ya, you must tell me. I don' wanna do somethin' that hurts or makes ya feel bad, all right? If you ain't ready to be naked in front of me, then I can turn away, let you get into a nightgown, and we can just kiss and snuggle all night. I can wait till you feel ready for more… I promised ya we'd take it easy, and I'm gonna keep my promise, no matter what. How's that?"

He gave her another soft kiss before he stood up and turned around, his back to her. He listened as she stood up also, and tried not to let his imagination run wild, as he heard the dress fall to the floor, the louder thumps of the armatures being dropped, and the soft rustling sound when she stepped out of the frothy ring of the silk skirts… And then, he had the pleasant, exciting surprise to feel her arms slip around his waist, with the softness of her bared breasts pressed against his back, the brush of her lips and the tickling warmth of her breath onto his nape as she uttered, almost moaned, his name.

Not wanting to break the spell, he allowed her to explore his body at her leisure, knowing the reward would be well worth the delicious torture he was going through. He barely stifled a growl when her hands caressed his chest and lightly brushed his nipples. Though her hands were shaking a little, she continued her caresses down to the toned-up muscles across his abdomen, her shyness only making her stop at the waistband of his tuxedo pants.

Michaela surprised herself as she slipped out of her clothes, removing even her camisole, and went straight to him. While the reasonable part of her brain urged her to reach for the bedspread, or _anything_ , to cover her torso before slipping on a proper nightgown, her instinct – or more accurately, _her desire_ – drew her to him at the sight of the strength and virility exuding from his perfectly outlined muscles. The feel of his taut flesh under her fingers and lips, against her own skin, was overwhelming, and she just could not deny her need to touch him anymore. As familiar as she was with the sight of him shirtless, the context, the place, the light swaying motion of the carriage, all combined to give a new dimension to her feelings for him. She had never experienced such excitement, never had the remotest idea that one day she could stand this close to a man, touch and kiss him, and feel wonderful instead of being repelled, ashamed or pressured. She was no longer the prim and proper doctor, no longer the modest fiancée either, now, she was married to him. _Married_! She was united to him in spirit, heart, and soul. And now, the time had come to unite their bodies, too.

And how considerate he was! How endearing! How could she remain passive, indifferent? He was willing to curb his own needs to allow her to enjoy their new intimacy at her own pace. How incredibly blessed she was to have found him! She wondered fleetingly whether any of the men she had crossed paths with would have been so patient, so loving and caring…

Eyes closed, she relished caressing his muscled, warm torso and, now that she was so close, she could perceive his heartbeat, strong and fast, and she warmed at the thought that it was for her. She again felt the urge to kiss him, to hold onto him like there would be no tomorrow – like they were the last two people on Earth. And suddenly, a flash of understanding hit her, and she realized why people could sometimes act so foolishly because of _this_ , because, right now, she truly cared about nothing else except being here, with him. Nothing could tear her away. It felt like every single cell of her body, every nerve ending, wanted, needed to melt and fuse with him. Now, she truly understood what _desire_ meant, not just what it felt like. Her analytical mind, or what passion had left of it, was awestruck by the phenomenon. Yet, she was still afraid of the intensity of her own feelings, afraid of losing control and acting recklessly, or clumsily, on those deeply buried but powerful urges she could feel stirring within her. She feared those unspeakable desires would shock her husband and might ruin her relationship with him and she could not bear the mere idea of losing his love and respect, losing him in the process. She could not take that risk, so she fought the impulse that had come over her to loosen his belt, help him finish undressing and drag him back to the bed. _A proper woman should not take the lead… wait for the man_ , said her reason, sounding a bit too much like her mother.

When she did not make further moves, Sully warned her in a gentle whisper: "I'm gonna turn around, all right?"

She answered with another light kiss to his back, and her hold slackened enough to permit him to turn to face her. A sigh of rapture escaped him as his eyes beheld her half-naked body, and her heart fluttered in answer to his reaction, as she was both reassured and at the same time more anxious about what was to come…

Slowly, with infinite care, he explored her torso, cupping her breasts as he went. The exquisite softness, the delicious roundness of her breasts that seemed made to fit into his palms, her warmth, her scent… he was unable to hold his physical reaction in check any longer, his trousers becoming more uncomfortable by the second. He had the choice between finding a way to cool down, _fast_ , and risking a bolder move.

He chose to take her lips again, to hold her so close she would feel the evidence of his reaction, and maybe, _just maybe_ , her resistances might yield on their own - or she could draw back once more… His decision was quickly made as he crushed her to his chest, his lips and tongue ardently seeking hers.

Her flesh burning from and for his touch, Michaela could barely believe what was happening to her, and that _it_ was happening to her, inside and out. Her heart rate was becoming increasingly erratic with each caress, and her body, as if drawn to him like a magnet, just moved on its own volition under his hands, her back arching toward him. When his arms tightened around her waist and he pulled her hard against his chest, taking her breath away with a kiss so charged with pent-up passion, she almost lost consciousness from the dizziness that overtook her. And she might have, save her awareness of the tell-tale throbbing of his arousal pushing against her lower abdomen. She felt her legs wobbling ominously and would have collapsed on the floor if Sully had not held her so tight and secure.

Sully felt her tremble and suddenly go limp in his arms. Having a fair idea of the reason behind her weakness, he smiled softly and reassuringly at her before he repeated his earlier action, scooping her up in his arms and laying her once again on the bed. He resumed kissing her with ardor, only leaving her mouth to trail his kisses down her throat to her collarbone, down further to the valley between her breasts, where he lingered a moment, breathing in the intoxicating mix of fragrances emanating from her skin. Another groan escaped his mouth as he luxuriated in her perfume, subtle and flowery, and her natural feminine scent, enhanced by the lavender soap she used every day, the very scent that had driven him almost crazy on the trip to Harding's mill.

As his lips were exploring her chest, his hair brushed lightly the highly sensitive skin of her breasts and the combination of sensations made her shudder violently, almost painfully. Gooseflesh erupted all over her body and her nipples hardened, leaving her breathless and dazed. She had a short moment of panic when she realized that she was losing all control over her own body, her own feelings – her very thoughts. And then, without warning, she sank into some sort of oblivion, the nervous tension that had been building within her body receding to make full way for her arousal. Every inch of skin touched by his hands or his lips came alive, reddening with the onrush of her blood, its flow as untamed as the frantic beating of her heart.

Sully noticed the sudden change in her demeanor, and tore himself from his luscious exploration to lovingly observe her. Lying there on the bedspread, her skin becomingly flushed, her chest heaving most enticingly, her trembling lips, swollen and moist from all the kisses; her delicate nostrils; her eyes brimming over with amorous fever - she was such a vision that all he could do to keep from taking her right on the spot was to turn away. Desperately, he tried to divert his thoughts to the most mundane and boring subjects he could think of, while he kicked off his shoes, shed his trousers and breeches, taking deep, calming breaths before he could begin the task of removing _her_ undergarments. He swallowed hard, striving to block out the fantasies about to come to life of her lying naked and abandoned in his arms.

When she felt Sully pull away from her, Michaela came back to reality with a frustrated sigh. She did not need to ask him out loud for the reason of his unexpected withdrawal as she realized that he was merely finishing undressing. Though she could not see him fully, since he was seated at her feet with his back to her, she gulped as she imagined what his aroused body might look like in all its glory, prompting another wave of heat to burn its way up to her face. Her wild heartbeat did not get much time to recover, either, for Sully turned around once again, his eyes fixed on her feet, removing one boot, then the other, before running his hands up one of her legs toward the garter that held her white silk stocking in place. As he undid the fastenings, his hands rubbed against her thighs, making her heart nearly stop from pounding so fast and hard. She trembled again, her anticipation reaching another threshold when his fingertips came chose, _indecently_ close to touching her most private place, where she had never dared imagine being touched, ever, by anyone. That very same place was now throbbing impatiently, much to her bewilderment, and clamoring for something quite unknown to her. She had yet to learn that a woman could need and expect fulfillment the way a man did…

As the crucial moment was looming closer now, the last few tiny shreds that were left of her reasoning abilities could barely remember what Dorothy had told her about what to expect of this particular stage of intimacy. The older woman had meant well when she had tried to reassure the nervous bride-to-be, telling her that there was nothing to fear at all, even not the rupture of the maidenhead, for the pain would last no longer than the sting of a needle. Upon seeing that her best friend had remained unconvinced, Dorothy, armed with the hereditary wisdom, practicality and straightforwardness of country womenfolk, had tried a more matter-of-fact approach, suggesting that, with riding a horse daily as she had done for the last three years, it was likely that the membrane was already gone, or at least loosened enough not to bother her when the time to join with Sully would come. Then Dorothy had thrown in a last piece of advice: she had insisted about Michaela letting Nature do its work, allowing her body to follow the age-old instinct that kept bringing men and women together.

Much too befuddled to determine whether she had succeeded in following her friend's recommendations, Michaela could only raise her hips a second to allow Sully to draw her bloomers down and off, that unspeakable, magnetic need to unite with him stronger than any embarrassment she could ever feel about being completely naked and exposed to her new husband's scrutiny. She sought his eyes, hoping to distract him from looking too closely at her body, and found them, their usual forget-me-not hue turned to a much darker shade, like a stormy ocean, a true reflection of the tempestuous desire raging inside that mirrored her own.

The mere act of taking the last of her underclothes off had been sheer torture to him; his aching need was almost unbearable. He had never felt anything like that, never heard about it either. _The Body Electric?_ When it came to his attraction to this woman, that was an understatement for it more resembled the force of a thousand lightning bolts! He resumed the stroking of her body, his touch reverent, yet possessive, seeking her most sensitive places. He smiled mischievously, picturing himself as a musician learning how to master his instrument. He hoped that, one day, the roles could be reversed and she would be able to reciprocate.

Lying down alongside her, he lovingly brushed her lips with his thumb, then with his mouth, his tongue soon slipping in to sensuously meet and caress hers when she granted him access. She shuddered again, but settled quickly into the new movement of their mouths, the rhythm of which was clearly prefiguring the merging of their bodies. And then… the feel of his hand gliding up her inner thigh again, reaching the soft folds of her sex, exploring the tender flesh with cautious fingers. _Oh my God_ … Such intimate caresses were jarring her innocence so much that her heart stuttered and lurched alarmingly, but as his caresses intensified, she could do nothing but completely submit to the incredibly pleasurable sensations, her body shuddering and writhing in response. It no longer mattered how improper and unladylike it was to vocalize her enjoyment. It no longer mattered she was not supposed to enjoy his ministrations in the first place, let alone desperately want more… _oh yes, more!_

More than pleased to feel her response, yet knowing that he would not last much longer at this rate, Sully broke off the kiss and ventured a bolder move between her legs, searching carefully for the spots that gave her pleasure, and watched her tense, then tremble and squirm and mellow under his ministrations, while listening rapturously to the chant-like moans his caresses were eliciting from her. He caressed and kissed her some more, until he caught sight of her eyes, darkened and veiled with longing and felt the telltale slippery dampness running down his fingers: she was obviously ready for the next step. The thrill of pride he felt at being able to bring her to such a level of arousal on their first night together knew no limit - and he almost lost it at that moment.

Overwhelmed by all the sensations that assailed her and unable to control her response to them, she could only lie there, overcome by a strange, growing feeling of emptiness that had been nagging at her for the past few minutes and that she instinctively knew only Sully could fill. She offered no resistance as he coaxed her legs open so he could position himself between them. She drew in her breath shakily as she felt his manhood pulsating against her, and a need to take him in, primeval and powerful, washed over her. She could almost hear her core calling out to him urgently, and felt her body opening on its own as if it was a flower blossoming from the inside… _What a bewildering sensation!_

"Ready?" Sully rasped.

Michaela's heart leapt again in both anxiety and eagerness. She nodded and wrapped her arms around his back, feeling the tense muscles under her palms as her hands moved up to his nape. Sully took his cue from her embrace to dip his head for a sweet kiss. He reached back for one of her hands, interlacing their fingers together in a gesture he hoped would reassure her, and then he carefully sought entry, all his attention centered on making the moment as smooth and painless as possible for her.

"Oooh…" she breathed huskily. She wanted to feel him inside her so badly that she did not even think of bracing herself against the possible pain. Indeed, she barely noticed the sharp, tearing sensation, its sting fading fast in the wake of such an awe-inspiring discovery. She blinked several times, holding her breath as she thought, _this is it_ … they were fully joined. So, this was how it felt to take the man she loved inside her! How complete he made her feel – that absolute oneness that couldn't be compared to anything else she had ever experienced, nor even heard about! From somewhere within the deepest recesses of her soul rose the certainty that this was how it would be between them from now on, as if a part of him had been etched within her, destined to remain there forever…

Meeting less resistance than he had anticipated and seeing no trace of pain or discomfort marring her features, he allowed himself a sigh of relief. Yet he asked, just to be sure: "You all right?"

A dreamy half-smile on her lips, she nodded eagerly, then pressed a grateful kiss to his mouth, much to his contentment. Without further ado, he started moving, as slowly as he could, focusing on every nuance of her reactions while trying hard not to get too absorbed in his own sensations. In the thousands of times he had dreamed of how it would feel to be inside her, never had he expected to feel so welcome, her body so warm and soft and so perfectly snug for him. _Perfect_ , that was the word, exactly. Adoringly, he kissed her again and again, his lips and tongue again matching the rhythm of his movements, progressively picking up speed. All too soon however, their time together came to a blazing end. She felt _so_ good, he had waited for this moment for _so_ long... All that he was feeling – love, desire, pleasure – was swallowing him up, his determination to give her enough time to reach her own climax crumbled, his endurance snapped and he just abandoned himself to the abyss, growling weakly, her name the only thing on his lips and on his mind before it blacked out.

Michaela had no idea of how long their union had lasted. She only knew only that the exhilarating feeling that had been swelling within her, bathing her whole being in its sunny light, melted away before it had reached its zenith, when Sully helplessly reached his release. She was left with a kind of vague regret she had already experienced a couple of times before, though at a lesser degree: a few weeks ago, at the homestead, when propriety had won over her needs, and a year before, when they had sealed their engagement in the sweat lodge with the most feverish kiss ever. Nevertheless, feeling him softly quiver within her, and hearing him calling out her name in a low but intense rasp gave her an odd sense of satisfaction. She sighed serenely, holding fast onto his broad shoulders. He was sweating heavily and crushing her under his weight, but she could not have cared less. All that mattered to her, right here and right now, was that unbelievable sense of belonging with him – maybe also _to_ him.

When, at last, he had recovered enough to roll onto his back, she followed and ended up tucked firmly alongside his body. He was breathless, not only physically but emotionally as well, unable to find a suitable way to convey what this very first time together had meant to him: what _she_ meant to him. He could only hug her closer, his whole heart in his eyes as he peered into hers. He nearly told her that next time, he would make it even better for her, then decided against saying anything, for fear she would misinterpret his words as an expression of discontent from his part. It would only annihilate all his efforts to make her sufficiently relaxed and aroused for a painless penetration. And he knew better than take it for granted, so he wowed to himself that each and every time they would make love from that moment on, he would make sure that his Heartsong would reach orgasm, no matter what it took.

The setting sun cast its last flamboyant rays onto the train carriage, setting the dim light within ablaze for all but a second, and then darkness took over, encouraging the lovers to get a well-deserved nap before their arrival to Denver, and the beginning of a whole new chapter of their life.


	2. On the way to Denver

As the train lugged and chugged slowly towards its destination, Sully battled with the natural postcoital weariness threatening to overpower him, knowing he could not allow himself to succumb to sleep before he had assured himself that his wife – yes, _his wife_ , in every sense of the term, he thought in wonder – was at least comfortable, if not fully satisfied.

He willed his eyes to stay open as he softly caressed her arm, and asked: "Michaela, you all right?"

She jumped slightly in his arms, as if awakened abruptly.

"Sorry, you were sleepin', didn' mean to wake ya."

"No, it's fine, I wasn't asleep. But I thought you were," she answered quietly, her voice barely audible over the rumble of the train.

"Mmmh, almost… Just wanted to make sure I didn' hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable… ya know, with it bein' your first time an' all."

She smiled at his thoughtfulness and planted a soft kiss to his shoulder to convey her appreciation.

"I'm more than all right. You've kept your promise, Sully…" She trailed off, unsure at how to formulate the embarrassing question that was on her mind. Sully perceived her hesitation.

"Whatcha thinkin'?"

She sighed, impatient with her inability to talk as plainly as he did about such private matters. _What's so terrible about it, really? He's your husband, for God's sake,_ said the little voice in her head, this time sounding like Dorothy's. Yet, she just couldn't bring herself to ask aloud whether she had pleased him. How did one ask such an immodest question?

"You wanna know if it was good for me, don't ya?"

She started again when Sully so astutely articulated her musings and blinked bashfully: "Was it?… Was _I_ all right?"

Sully could not repress a chuckle at her ingenuousness, but he gazed at her with such tenderness that she knew he was not mocking her.

"You were incredible, you have no idea… You were perfect. You _are_ perfect."

"T–… Truly?" she stammered timidly, eyes widening in wonder. "But I… I didn't do anything… I don't know how… what to do…"

Sully knew he had to carefully choose his words so as to not shock her with his frankness, and to assuage her remaining insecurities.

"Don't worry about that. Ya know, I'm learnin', too," he said, his lips against her disheveled hair.

With her eyebrows raised in puzzlement, she shifted slightly in his arms to look at him.

"Sure," he went on, "We'll both be learnin' what the other likes best… or what we don't like. Like I told ya last year, not everythin' ya need to know comes out of a book. There are things you learn by doin'… lovin' each other, pleasin' each other…" At his words, she blushed and squirmed in embarrassment, but still she held his gaze. "It'll come with time." He reached out to cup her chin lovingly and stated: "Michaela, we got all the time in the world…"

As moved to tears as she was flustered, the only answer she could think of was to lean across and kiss him soundly, soulfully, with everything she had in her, again overwhelmed by her need to feel one with him, at least emotionally. It was so powerful, thrilling and awe-inspiring that she wanted to convey her fervor to him through her kiss.

Sully was pleasantly surprised at her reaction and the eagerness with which she was kissing him. Yet, he did not dare press his luck too much, for they would be in Denver soon, and Michaela was far too inexperienced for him to initiate anything that might have to be concluded in a rush, as exciting as the idea was to him. So, when he felt his arousal about to flood his senses again, he broke off the kiss, a pang of regret stabbing at his heart as he saw a trace of confusion - or could it be disappointment? - flicker in her eyes.

"Should be in Denver soon, we best be gettin' ready," he said, his voice a bit hoarse. She nodded in acknowledgment, obviously trying to regain some composure. Sitting up and looking around for her luggage, she spotted the carpetbag in which she had packed her traveling outfit a few feet from her discarded wedding dress and undergarments. This quickly reminded her of her present state of undress, and that she needed to clean up the sticky dampness between her legs. Her face prickling with self-consciousness, she surreptitiously took a cloth from her medical bag, gave the inside of her thighs a cursory swipe: there was mostly semen, barely tinged pink - she had hardly bled at all, as Dorothy had predicted. Then she snatched her underclothes from the pile, swiftly slipping on the flimsy camisole and pantaloons. Feeling a bit more comfortable now that she was no longer nude, she got up and reached for her bag. She could not help casting a surreptitious glance at the bed, looking for spots on the crumpled bedspread, where they had been laying only minutes before. Surprised but relieved that there was no tangible evidence of what they had done on the bedclothes, she concentrated on getting dressed, all the while very much aware of Sully's presence, and sensing that he was presently watching her every move. The electricity between them was still so powerful that she shuddered under the force of its magnetism.

He hadn't expected her to disengage from his arms so fast and rush to her clothes, yet he knew he should not be disconcerted. He watched her attentively, content with simply admiring her as she moved around, her graceful limbs stretching, the loose curls of her hair bouncing off her shoulders, their cooper and golden highlights shimmering faintly in the semidarkness. He did not know whether he was impatient to check into their hotel, or if he wished the train ride would last forever, so he could have her all to himself, no interruption, no emergency, nothing but them, together, alone.

He finally got up, too, put on his cotton breeches and tuxedo trousers, then crouched next to his wife who was still rummaging through the bag until she found her vanity case, a petticoat and a pair of black stockings. She also pulled out her traveling skirt and jacket. Again, she looked at the wedding clothes thrown about on the carriage floor. Sully followed her eyes, and, understanding her dilemma, he told her:

"Don't worry 'bout all this. As soon as we get ta Denver, I'll arrange for our belongin's to go back to Colorado Springs. Looks like Brian and John thought of everythin', they left those things ya use to protect clothes."

"That's very thoughtful of them. We'll have to bring Brian something nice from Denver."

"Sure. But ya know, he's so happy we're finally married that I guess he already got his reward."

"You're probably right." She chuckled, now fully considering Brian's role in their life.

"What?" asked Sully.

"I've just realized something… We actually owe Brian for more… so much more than… hum, our accommodations!"

"I know what ya mean. Guess since the beginnin', he's done everythin' he could to get us together."

"Do you think things would have turned out differently, if not for the children to constantly play matchmakers?"

"Some things woulda been different, yeah, but I'm sure we woulda ended up together anyway," he asserted, a gleam in his eyes.

Michaela was not too sure of the innuendo she detected in his words and lowered her eyes, busying herself with gathering the items she needed. She thought about all the times Sully had found excuses to come around the homestead before they had started courting, bringing meat, making repairs every now and then… how different would their life have been if Charlotte was still alive, or if she had asked somebody else to look after Matthew, Colleen and Brian? What would have happened if she had been totally on her own at the homestead? She remembered each and every time the children had helped to put things into perspective, how much they had taught her… It dawned on her that the course of the last three years would have indeed been drastically, not to mention tragically, different, if not for them. She also realized that Sully had fallen in love not only with her as a medicine woman, or just a woman, but also as a mother. She instinctively caressed her flat stomach, wondering how long it would take to become pregnant. Maybe their honeymoon would be fruitful – she certainly hoped so!

In one of the bags, Sully found the dress shirt, vest and jacket that he was supposed to have worn for the wedding, and put them on, leaving the bow tie off for the time being. When he was ready, he went back to Michaela who was now fumbling with the tiny buttons of her bodice. Wordlessly, he took over and both were transported back to that time when he had done up her buttons. They smiled softly at each other, aware that they were both remembering that moment charged with such an unspeakable longing. Once he was done, he leaned in for a soft kiss, his hands settling quite intimately on her hips.

"Sure couldn't do that, back then," he joshed with a wry smile. She answered with a giggle, then reached for her stockings, her hand stopping in mid-air as Sully requested: "Let me? Please…" She blinked in surprise, her heart skipping a beat or two. She would have never imagined in her wildest fantasies that Sully would want to help her get dressed as much as he had been eager to do the exact opposite!

She relented and sat on the edge on the bed. As reverently as he had peeled off the white silk ones, he slid the black wool stockings up her legs, running his hands up and down her calves and thighs over and over, before tying the garters back in place. Michaela enjoyed his ministrations in silence, feeling cherished beyond belief. She thought herself the luckiest woman in the world right at this instant.

Finally, she took her hairbrush, working the bristles through her tangled hair until what was left of her former hairstyle was evened out into soft waves. She deftly anchored the sides at her crown with two of the combs that had held her previous hairdo in place, and was again interrupted in her task by Sully when she started to coil her hair into a bun.

"No, please, leave your hair down," he requested. She was about to retort that it would not be proper, now that she was a married lady, but thought better of it and let the knot unfurl down her back, eager to please him in such a simple way after all of his tender care.

They were now ready to get out, but they had still little less than half an hour to wait. Deciding to enjoy their accommodations to their fullest, Sully dropped into one of the wingback chairs, and pulled Michaela down to sit across his lap. She let out a small squeal of surprise, but she settled quickly in his arms.

He eyed her mischievously. "Let's kiss some more," he announced in a low, but playful tone.

"What a strange pastime!" Michaela played along, uncharacteristically teasing. "Wouldn't you rather play chess? Or read a book?"

"Nope. Only thing I can think 'bout right now is…" He touched her lips delicately "… those lips o' yours. Ain't nothin' sweeter in the whole world," he finished in a soft growl, his mouth pressed to hers. Her senses reeled with his seductive words and she opened her mouth to his in complete abandon.

Both relished in exploring new sensations by simply kissing with no restraint whatsoever. Their contact, though not meant to lead to lovemaking, left them breathless, disheveled and flushed, and most of all blissful.

Michaela knew she would never get enough of the silky softness of Sully's lips on hers, of the taste of his tongue as it sought and caressed hers, no longer feeling overwhelmed or smothered by this kind of deep kissing. She welcomed the way her heart fluttered and sped up, the delicious giddiness, and the warmth spreading all through hey body, as if the love and need she had for Sully were a slow but spectacular sunrise within her. She wondered whether Sully felt the same about her.

When the engine finally pulled their honeymoon rail car into the Denver station and came to a stop, they reluctantly rose from their chair, Sully stepping to the door and opening it for his bride. Alighting to the platform, holding hands, they gave the caboose one last glance, knowing they would never forget its wonderful surprise – or what happened within – before switching to gaze at each other with longing, each anxiously anticipating the two weeks ahead.

* * *

Sully found John and quickly settled with him the matter of their belongings left in the remodeled carriage, profusely thanking him for his generous contribution, then set out to find some means of transportation to their hotel. Within minutes, the newlyweds were cozily settled on the padded seat of a streetcar, barely paying attention to their surroundings, their only thoughts directed at each other. Under the thick fabric of her traveling outfit, Michaela was trembling ever so lightly, hard, almost painful gooseflesh all over her skin, all her senses heightened with everything she had experienced during the past few hours. She was intensely curious, but unfortunately not self-confident enough to ask Sully if he felt as she did, overwhelmed with a whirlwind of so many emotions she could not precisely define any of them.

She barely registered the grandeur of the hotel where they were to stay for a fortnight, for once letting Sully take charge of all the formalities, and only snapping out of her dazed state when he returned to her side and asked: "Michaela, you all right?" There was a hint of worry in his voice.

"I'm fine… I…" she couldn't finish her thought, but the look in her eyes was eloquent enough. Sully felt his heart melting with tenderness. He slid his arm around her waist and led her toward the staircase, a diligent bellhop laden with their luggage on their heels.


	3. Heart to Heart

The ornate door of the honeymoon suite opened onto a large, luxurious room, with a huge four-poster bed with brocade drapes tied to each corner and tall French windows bracketed with heavy velvet curtains. The oriental carpet was so thick that it almost swallowed their feet. On their left, a door led to the bathroom. On their right, a couch and two large matching armchairs overloaded with plump cushions were framing a low table carved from walnut wood in front of an elaborate marble mantelpiece, with a fire crackling cozily in the hearth. Michaela wandered around the room, taking in what would be their haven for the next couple of weeks. She heard Sully talk to the bellhop behind her, but did not really register what they were saying.

Finally, the door closed, and they were alone again. She took a deep steadying breath, chiding herself mentally for being such a bundle of nerves. She trusted Sully with her life, and she knew with absolute certainty that he would never jeopardize her love and trust. Then why was she experiencing this restlessness?

So lost was she in her thoughts, she didn't notice that Sully was right behind her until he seized her by the waist, startling her. She tensed but for a second before relaxing in his embrace.

"Sorry," he breathed in her ear. "Didn' mean to scare ya. What's gotcha all jumpy like that?

"I don't know. I guess I'm so… excited," she admitted, eyes lowered, blushing with the use of the word, "and I'm not used to it."

"Excited, huh?" He slid around so he could face her. "I am, too. Hard not to be since I got ya all to myself for two whole weeks.." He cupped her face in his strong hands, his thumbs stroking the softness of her cheeks. She closed her eyes, expecting him to kiss her and initiate another encounter, but when he did not, she reopened her eyes to find his staring at her intently, the hunger in them unmistakable. Her nerves quivered as her newly awakened body reacted instantly to his obvious desire, and before she knew it, she was the one to reach for his lips… the one to deepen their kiss… the one who snuggled up closer to him…

An untimely knock, followed by a rather loud "Room service!" broke the spell. Reluctantly, Sully tore himself from his wife's loving arms and answered the door.

He dismissed the bellhop quickly and returned with the cart bearing their dinner.

"Remember I told you how good at kissin' you are? Well, you're so good at it you made me plumb forget about orderin' dinner!"

"We could have gone to the dining room, Sully. It's still early," she scolded him gently.

"No way." He took her in his arms again. "Right now, I need to be close to you so bad it hurts," he admitted candidly, "and I don't think you sittin' on my lap, an' us feeding each other is allowed in the dinin' room…"

Michaela chuckled nervously, picturing the scene in her mind's eye.

"May I at least go to the washroom to freshen up, Mr. Sully?" she requested, a coy smile teasing her lips. He grimaced, pretending to consider it very seriously, then relented, laughing.

"Sure. But don't be too long, all right? Don't want the _food_ to go cold."

Michaela, this time, missed the nuance, but all the same blew him a kiss before disappearing into the bathroom, her toiletries in hand.

As she came face to face with her reflection in the mirror, she stopped short and gasped at the sight of her inflamed lips and cheeks, her shimmering eyes and her overall feverish appearance. To her critical eye, it seemed the evidence of her earlier activities was written all over her face, even in the way she moved. Her heart fluttered wildly as she acknowledged the significance of her transformation: she had changed, and everything she had known had changed with her, as if the mere acts of getting married and consummating her union with Sully had transported her into another world, where she was no longer a single person on her own, but the other half of something much greater. She was then reminded of the Cheyenne legend Sully had told her, about the four-legged, four-armed creature the Great Spirit had split into two human beings. She remembered also the words from the Bible the Reverend had recited during the ceremony, and it all made much clearer, deeper sense to her now. Her initial shock turned into awe, her heart overflowing with a pure, profound joy.

She shook herself out of her reverie when she heard a clatter of dishes and cutlery in the bedroom. She splashed some cool water on her flushed face, patted it dry with one of the fluffy towels provided by the hotel and, feeling a bit more composed, joined Sully on the couch in front of the fireplace. He had dimmed the lights and arranged the plates on the coffee table. As soon as she was settled next to him, he reached for one of the small sandwiches and fed it to her bite by bite, interspersing each morsel with a kiss or two. She reciprocated, with Sully nibbling sensuously at her fingers. Soon the hors-d'oeuvres were gone, and the tasty rabbit stew followed suit, both of the newlyweds taking great care of ensuring that no trace of gravy remained on the other's lips. Then Sully uncovered the dessert with a flourish.

"Strawberries!" Michaela exclaimed, smacking her lips ravenously. Not that she was still hungry after the delicious, rich dishes they had already consumed, but she was truly enjoying herself. They both had had a sip of Chardonnay, just enough to feel the warming effect of alcohol, though it was debatable whether the heat that smoldered between them came from the wine or from the amorous atmosphere. And the sweet, perfumed berries meant business as kisses became a lot less light and teasing, soon turning into fiery, hard ones, enhanced by the fruity taste that lingered on their tongues.

While they remained locked into a passionate embrace and kiss, Sully rose from the settee, pulling her up with him. They stood there a moment, unconsciously swaying a little as if recreating the rocking motion which had cradled their first union. Only this time, Sully felt slightly less the somewhat selfish urgency of making her his, and was determined that she should enjoy the experience as much as he did, no matter how long it would take. Her enthusiastic response to his loving bode well, but he had a premonition that it might be a long, bumpy road for her to let herself go completely, most of all without all the second thoughts and insecurities coming back to her in a rush the way they had earlier. He could tell by the persistent blush that had been staining her face and neck and her uncharacteristic distracted demeanor since they had alighted that she was feeling out of sorts, and probably embarrassed with herself. He knew Mrs. Quinn had spoken to her daughter to give her some marital _advice_ … and he was wondering what on earth she had told Michaela that made her so skittish, especially when he felt her stiffen in his arms as his hands found their way to her breasts. _Only one way to find out_ , he mused, breaking off the seemingly endless kiss.

"Michaela," he whispered, out of breath. She opened her eyes to peer up at him, and for a moment, Sully forgot everything as he lost himself in contemplation of the mystery that was their unusual colors, those unique, vibrant shades of golden green and red amber that made her eyes look like precious, rare gems, eyes that had been haunting him since that fateful day in Loren's store, their depths now shining with such a compelling yearning, that he was fast losing his resolve of taking things slowly and gently. The intensity of his need instantly rose to a fevered pitch, to a point where he could barely fight it, his imagination ablaze with vivid images of her nude body writhing under his, fueled by her scent and the memory of how her voice had sounded in the throes of passion this afternoon. Keeping his promise of taking their loving gently and slowly was proving to be much harder than he had expected.

He forced himself to take deep, steadying breaths. He just could not allow himself to be swept away, at least not until he had made sure his wife could meet him halfway. Their physical relationship was barely a few hours old and still as fragile as a tiny rosebud. It would take time, patience and care for it to strengthen and bloom. But to do so, he had some walls to knock down first.

"Sully? What is it?" Michaela asked timidly with a gentle, concerned squeeze on his arms. She too was quite winded, both from the kiss and the overwhelming force of her feelings. Much to her chagrin, she had flinched again when he had tried to caress her intimately, and she was getting impatient with these involuntary reactions of hers. _What was she shying away from? And wouldn't Sully become annoyed with her in the long run, wouldn't he grow tired of her inability to just submit to his desires without a fuss? He didn't like her to fuss, of that she was certain… Oh dear, what was she to do?_

Sully noticed immediately when her expression changed from desirous to fretting. He had a fair idea of what was going through her mind and knew that a frank talk was in order _now_. So he gently stepped out the circle of her arms, took her hands in his, lifting the left one to his lips for a brief kiss just above her wedding band.

"Michaela, we gotta talk, before we go any further. Let's sit down."

Utterly puzzled, she followed him to the upholstered bench at the foot of the bed.

"Sully, please tell me… I'm doing it all wrong, aren't I?"

Typical Michaela, ready to lay the blame on herself. He pulled her closer to him and kissed her forehead tenderly.

"No, it ain't that, ya got no reason to fret… But the way I see it, you're holdin' back , an' I'm pretty sure it's about whatever your ma told ya about bein' with me…"

Michaela stared at him in disbelief. _How did he know?_ She struggled with how to formulate her answer for a minute or so, until Sully's encouraging smile gave her the courage to reveal her innermost thoughts.

"Sully, you have to understand that I–… I… where I come from, women are expected to behave in a certain way….

"Figured that out years ago, still, it ain't like ya to care 'bout that kinda things. Would'na become a doctor, and would'na come to Colorado if you'd done what was expected o' ya…"

"True," she conceded. "But I'm afraid that… well – in… certain matters, I've been raised to believe that non-conformism only leads to… disgrace. You see, by becoming a doctor, I've done something to help people, I treat anyone who needs me, and I've learned to keep my personal feelings, whatever they might be, from interfering with my practice. When I took the Hippocratic Oath, I truly believed in what I was reciting. I still do…"

Sully nodded in acknowledgement. He knew better than to try and force her to get straight to the point, choosing to let her go at her own pace, to put her at ease.

Buoyed by his attentiveness, she forged on: "But when it comes to… how to behave with men… I never had much…" she paused, searching for the right word.

"Information?" Sully provided helpfully

"Yes," she confirmed, a small, rueful smile playing on her lips. "Of course, I knew all about procreation, thanks to my father and the books, but there was nothing in there about relationships, the feelings I was supposed to be feeling… And I suppose I was so caught up in my studies and my goal that I wasn't very interested in making… _friends_."

"But you got engaged… you loved David enough to wanna marry him, enough to be torn between us for a while."

Michaela held her breath at Sully's mention of her first love and fiancé. But she realized there was no trace of bitterness or jealousy in his voice and his eyes were clear, only gleaming with tender concern as they gazed into hers. Reassured, she continued her tirade:

"When David and I met, I was working in the hospital under my father's supervision, more as a chief nurse than as a future doctor, since I hadn't been accepted into medical school yet. One day, Father asked me to assist a new colleague of his for a delicate surgery…"

"David?"

"Yes. That's how we met. He was the first man, after Father, who didn't look down his nose at me because of my ambitions. I was so used to facing scorn that David's acceptance was a breath of fresh air. And before I knew it, he started calling, taking me to dinner, to the theater… we were always strictly chaperoned, so at first I only went along, enjoying his company and conversation. That is, until that night when he brought me home, and kissed me on the front porch. My mother saw us…"

"I bet she bit your head off…"

"No, not really. She seemed worried, mostly, when she came into my room and asked if this had happened before, how many times, and she appeared relieved when I told her it had been the first one. Then she set out to warn me against doing things that could shame the family. Since I was clueless, she explained how I was to remain chaste until a proper wedding, and to let neither David nor any man, try to… touch me inappropriately…" She stopped momentarily, still obviously embarrassed after all these years. Sully remained silent, waiting patiently for her to resume her tale, stroking her shoulder and arm consolingly.

"At first I complied. I didn't think much of it, to be honest. I enjoyed David's companionship, his attentions, and he was always the perfect gentleman. It wasn't until I was accepted into Medical College in Philadelphia, when I realized how much I missed him, that we became serious. We wrote to each other almost daily, and when I went home for Christmas… We were so happy to be together again, that we… er… got a little…"

"Carried away?" Sully wasn't surprised at all – it was so easy to imagine Michaela as a naive young woman falling for the only man who had accepted her for who she was.

"Well, let's say that we kissed on the platform the minute I was out of the train, in a way Mother deemed indecent. She took me aside as soon as we arrived home and lectured me quite severely. I had never seen her so livid, still haven't. Mother led me to believe that only women of loose morals would allow themselves to kiss or touch a man they're not even engaged to in public… And when David and I did get engaged, she lectured me again about propriety, and saw fit to add that I should not display my sentiments so openly, that it was… _obscene_. Then, a few days ago, she told me… that I was to endure the wifely duty without complaint to keep you happy, and that if I didn't like it, then I would have only myself to blame for marrying for love," she concluded in a whisper, eyes averted in sheer humiliation.

"Endure the…? Is that how you've been feelin' all this time? That you gotta just let me have my way? Without enjoyin' it? What kind of marriage is that? Oh, 'Chaela!…" Sully shook his head incredulously at the enormity of it all. He slid from the bench to kneel at her feet.

"Darlin', look at me."

Surprised at his rare use of a term of endearment, she snapped her head up.

"I swear to you, I ain't _never_ gonna force myself on you. I love you more than I can put it into words, and that means that I wanna make you as happy as you make me…"

"Sully, you do make me happy, so much more than I ever thought possible! What I meant by telling you all of this, is that I've been taught not to seek p… pl – enjoyment for myself, but being with you… it felt so wonderful and… I don't want you to think that I'm… some sort of…" she stammered, a lone tear making its way down her cheek. He caught it with his thumb as his hands came up to cup her face.

"Don't ever think somethin' like that. Remember what I told you on the train? We'll learn together, there's no hurry. Don't ya think it's natural for a wife to enjoy bein' with her husband?

"Of course, it is… but with such intensity… it can't be healthy," she confessed. Sully's jaw dropped.

"It _is_ healthy, and I'm glad you feel that way with me. You gotta forget all this Boston hogwash you've been taught. That's the thing that ain't healthy in my book."

Relief washed over her, yet she felt compelled to add: "Please don't be angry with me if sometimes I don't react as I should… or as you'd like me to…"

"What did I just tell ya, huh?" he scolded her gently with a playful tap on her nose. "Don't – worry – about – that," he stressed each word with a kiss. He stood up and gathered her in his arms again for the gentlest hug, patting her back comfortingly.

Michaela felt like a tremendous pressure had been lifted from her shoulders as she was finally able to fully relax for the first time since a long while, since her mother had shown up in Colorado Springs actually, even though both women had reached some kind of truce in the end. Now, cradled in Sully's protective embrace, she could savor his closeness without fear or guilt.

Sully was just as relieved to feel the tension in her body ease significantly. Satisfied with what they had achieved tonight, he pondered whether or not to pursue his previous loving overtures. It was late and they had had quite a busy day. When she tried to stifle a yawn, he made up his mind to wait until the next day for more _sparkin'_. Tonight, they would snuggle up under the covers and fall asleep in each other's arms, fulfilling and nurturing a more emotional kind of need.

"Time for bed… It's been a long day," he crooned in her ear, his breath ruffling the coppery tendrils framing her cheek and eliciting yet another shiver from her.

"Mmmh… you're right," she concurred, as she stepped back and scrubbed at her face sleepily, in that oh so familiar gesture he had seen her do countless times at the clinic whenever she was standing vigil by one of her patients. He indicated for her to go into the bathroom first. As he was untying his shoelaces, he did not notice his wife's brief hesitation as she retrieved a nightgown from her personal effects.

Her hand had encountered the glossy satin and opulent lace of the peignoir that lay at the bottom of the bag. Though she had no idea how it would look on her, she was certain that such a garment had been designed expressly for romantic purposes, unlike her plain bathrobes at home. Knowing she would have other opportunities to wear it, she left the negligee where it was and headed for the bathroom.

When she came back, her hairbrush in hand, Sully had blown out all lamps save one and undressed, only keeping his breeches on, a folded nightshirt tucked under his arm. He gave her a quick buss on the cheek. "Be right back," and with a nod toward the brush, he asked, "wait for me?"

True to his word as always, he joined her a few minutes later, and knelt behind her on the bed. No words were spoken as he took the hairbrush from her to run it through her long tresses in slow, soothing motions, both reminded of their expedition to Harding's mill, when he had brushed her hair with just as much care.

Sully could tell from the way her shoulders were sagging more and more with each stroke of the brush that not only was she relaxed but very possibly dozing off. He pulled his droopy-eyed wife down, reclining with her under the thick bed covers. She snuggled in closer, sighing as she found a comfortable position, and within seconds fell fast asleep. Sully smiled softly to himself, relishing the feel of having her lying so peacefully and trustingly in his arms, before joining her in slumber.


	4. The Wonder of the First Morning

_Saturday May, 21st, 1870_

Sully blinked sleep away as the first rays of the sun spilled into their honeymoon suite. Next to him, Michaela was still slumbering, her breathing deep and steady. Sometime during the night she had rolled away from him and curled up on her side like a little child, her cheek demurely pillowed on her hand. Rather than being frustrated or disappointed, Sully found her ingenuousness incredibly endearing and irresistible, and took advantage of her stillness to take a good look at her, his eyes feasting upon every little detail: the trace of freckles across her shoulders, the graceful curve of her neck, the outline of her cute little ear, the skin of her cheek a rosy velvet, like a ripe apricot, the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, the way her nightgown outlined her womanly curves… Unable to resist the urge to feel her body against his, he slithered closer, spooning himself tightly along her back, his arm curling around her possessively. He buried his face in her hair, intoxicated by its fragrance and silkiness, and just savored her presence while waiting for her to wake up.

Michaela was feeling incredibly warm, safe and content. She couldn't remember having ever slept so well before. Glorious sunshine was illuminating the bedroom, its brightness filtering through the thin flesh of her closed eyelids. She was laying in the softest of beds, nestled into a cocoon of sweet-smelling percale bed sheets, her limbs heavy and her mind for once light and free, floating like a fluffy cloud in a clear summer sky. She yawned and stretched languidly, her movements somewhat restrained by the barrier of Sully's arm round her waist. The memories of their wedding day and the quite eventful train ride to Denver came rushing through her mind and sent pleasurable shivers along her spine. Suddenly, she froze as Sully's grip tightened and she became aware that he was awake… _more than awake_. The wheels of her quick mind started racing as, for a split second, the doctor in her, with her in-depth knowledge in human physiology, took over and wondered whether it was the natural phenomenon that happened to any healthy male at night, or if he was indeed conscious and wanting her. She rolled over to face him, only to meet with the telltale darkened blue of his eyes that answered her unspoken question, and was peripherally aware of the faint spark of longing igniting deep within her body which was responding to her husband's manifest arousal.

No words were exchanged as they instinctively slithered closer, their joined lips doing the talking as they kissed each other good morning thoroughly. When they finally broke off the kiss, Michaela murmured, in that raspy voice that stirred him so: "I love you."

"Love you, too," he whispered back. He clasped her tight to him, willing the tenderness of the moment to diffuse the lust that had started to burn again in his loins. He had expected that once they had consummated the nuptials, once he had found release for those three long years of pent-up yearning, controlling his feelings would be easier. But he had not counted on how good it would actually _feel_ to be with her. This first taste he had had of her gorgeous, perfect femininity had ignited an insatiable hunger within him. Yet, he didn't have much of a choice: acting on this kind of rough desire would only bewilder her, scare her - or worse, _hurt her_. With a supreme effort of will, he tried to cast aside the memories and fantasies that were taunting him. He would only rejoice in waking up to his beautiful new wife and in knowing that he would do so every morning from this day on.

He slid down a little to be at eye level with her, losing himself in her luminous eyes once again. He started tracing her features with his finger, his touch feather-light and when it reached her lips, she kissed it tenderly. He wanted nothing more than to tell her how he felt, but again, there were no words that he knew of that could truly express the depth of his love. He then remembered Michaela quoting that philosopher during the premarital counseling, and that made him chuckle.

"What's funny?" whispered Michaela, her expression half-curious, half-worried. Sully sobered immediately.

"I've been tryin' to think of somethin' I'd like to tell ya, but I just can't find the right words, but then I remembered how you'd like our marriage to be like that German fella said…"

"Oh, the endless conversation over the breakfast table?"

"Yup, that one…"

"And what did you want to tell me that made you think of that?"

"That's just it… ya know, I ain't so good with words, wish I was, so I could tell ya just how wonderful you are, how good you make me feel, how much I love you…"

Deeply moved, she could barely articulate: "You _are_ good with words, Sully. You've always been able to tell me what I needed to hear, direct and honest… and most of all, loving. I feel so cherished right now, I think I'm about to burst…"

"Same here," he murmured against her lips, as they melted into each other's arms for another kiss. At first gentle and tender, it soon grew more passionate as she willingly opened up to him. She savored the exquisite softness of his lips, the voluptuous caress of his tongue around hers, the warmth of his breath as it filled her mouth, as if he was breathing new life into her. This kiss became her lifeline as the sensation of drowning into light, the same she had experienced the day before on the train, engulfed her once again, and nothing but her awareness of him existed anymore. She felt herself dissolving into the sunlight that spilled onto their bed… into sweet ecstasy.

Sully wondered whether she was truly aware of where their good-morning kisses were heading and if she was _consciously_ inviting him for more. Loath to break the spell, he waited for a sign that would let him know what she really wanted. Yet she seemed perfectly content with simply kissing. Maybe it was still far too soon for her to be more daring… As if to confirm his suspicions, Michaela broke off the kiss. She stared a moment at him, eyes glistening with something he could not quite fathom. Then a slow, dreamy grin spread on her face, the kind of which he remembered seeing that afternoon at the new homestead, when they had ended up kissing on the floor.

"Whatcha thinkin'?"

Michaela hesitated but for a second, unsure about disclosing such a mundane detail to him, before her curiosity got the best of her, wanting to know if he had felt the same way.

"Yesterday, when I woke up… I looked at the empty place next to me… and I wondered about how it would feel to wake up in your arms today… every day…"

"So? How does it feel?" he probed, his smile mirroring hers. And as her eyes widened in awe, he understood and shared the emotion that shone in her eyes so brightly and left her for once bereft of all words, but not of action, for she leaned in to kiss him anew, needing to prolong indefinitely this moment with him.

"Good answer," Sully whispered as their lips momentarily parted so they could catch their breath. "Same here," he repeated.

This time, Sully could no longer keep his hands still under the covers. In the most unhurried way he could muster, his caresses started along her spine down to the small of her back, where they lingered for a bit, then on her hip… When she did not flinch, he tentatively moved to her buttock, furtively cupping it before sliding down her leg ever so slowly, until he found the hem of her nightdress, and let his fingers explore every soft, sweet inch of her on their way up to her breast. Meanwhile, his mouth left hers to leave a trail of light kisses along her jaw, until he reached the exquisitely sensitive place behind her ear, teasing it gently with his tongue and causing goosebumps to appear all the way down to her toes. He delighted in listening to her breathing coming out in barely audible moans, the soft puffs of air deliciously tickling his neck. _Easy does it_ , he kept reminding himself, as his own body began trembling with the force of his arousal.

Though quite dazed by the whirlwind of pleasurable sensations he was awakening within her, Michaela noticed Sully's trembling, his expression almost pained as he tried to clamp down onto his desire, and it dawned on her that he was restraining himself for her sake. It was obvious he was about to burst, yet, he was still patiently waiting for her, and she realized that she owed him the same tender care and consideration. Feeling clumsy and a bit uneasy, but determined to learn how to give him the pleasure he deserved, she tried to reciprocate his caresses, her hands trailing sensually down his back. Sully, needless to say, was more than pleased with her initiative. To thank and encourage her, he nibbled at her neck, while his hands were still weaving their magic under her nightgown.

After a while, Sully pulled back and sat up. Underneath the covers, it was like an oven. He needed to cool down before he lost all control, so he pushed the bed clothes down and slipped off his nightshirt, casting it carelessly on the floor. Michaela watched on, her remaining shyness preventing her from mirroring his actions right away. It was one thing to undress in the dark, and quite another to be unclothed in broad daylight! But when he remained still, hovering above her, his eyes raking hungrily her body, his tongue darting out to wet his dried lips, she gulped: he was waiting for her to do the same. Quaking with a mixture of self-consciousness, anxiety and her own need to feel his skin against hers, she sat up too, and peeled off her gown.

Sully was torn. On one hand, he truly appreciated her efforts; on the other hand, he didn't like seeing her so ill-at-ease, so apprehensive. He wanted to reassure her, to tell that everything was all right, that _she_ was all right, but no words came out. All he could do was to take her hand and bring it to his lips, kissing it reverently, before placing it on his chest right where she could feel his heartbeat.

Again, Michaela was overwhelmed by his love, his unbelievable patience and care. She mustered up her courage, and asked timidly:

"Is there… something - you… you'd like me to… do?"

His answer was immediate, though his voice came out quite hoarsely: "I want you to do what feels right for _you_. I want you to listen to your heart, not to your mind." He let his words sink in for a few seconds, before he risked adding: "If somethin' don't feel right to ya, if you ain't ready, then don't do it because you think that's what I'm expectin' from ya. You'd be fakin' and that ain't fair to either of us. Ya got a right to tell me to stop if you don't wanna be with me at the same time that I want…"

"But Sully…"

"Nah, no buts… So, what d'you wanna do, now?"

"I… I want to show you how much I love you…"

"Then do, the way you want to. If you just wanna kiss, fine with me… if you wanna touch me, caress me, then you can… but only if it's what ya really want, all right?" He kissed her hand once again. The short conversation had enabled him to calm down enough so that, in case she wished they'd stop, the frustration would not be too hard on him. He would be disappointed, of course, but mostly with himself for maybe spoiling the loving mood, for not taking things slowly enough, for initiating another encounter this early…

Michaela sensed from his demeanor, the rasp in his voice, as well as what he would not tell her, no matter how much he claimed the contrary, that he would be sorely frustrated if she were to call things off. Not that she actually wanted to. Quite the opposite: she wanted to feel again that blissful oneness when he was ensconced within her, all warm and safe and wonderful… Maybe it would be worth it to let go of her modesty, wouldn't it?… _If you wanna touch me, caress me, then you can_ , his words echoed in her mind. Tentatively she reached out, and like the first time, gently explored his chest, his shoulders and arms, only this time, she was free to touch his lower half as well, unencumbered by clothes. Shyly, she stroked his muscular thigh in a light, circular massage, her eyes never leaving his all the while, until her hand brushed against his crotch. Sully inhaled sharply, and Michaela snatched her hand away, as if burned.

Knowing he had to reassure her, Sully reached for her hand to put it back on his upper thigh, and said encouragingly: "It's all right, 'Chaela… I'm likin' what you're doin'…"

She swallowed the nervous lump that had just formed in her throat, and chastising herself for being so prudish, she resumed her caresses, though her hand demurely returned to his chest. His skin was so smooth and warm, his muscles so well defined and strong that she found herself wanting to kiss and touch his body forever… The doctor in her could admire the great work of Nature, the cultured woman couldn't help but think of him as a glorious incarnation of the Greek god Apollo in his perfect masculinity, and the bride marveled at the thought that this man was indeed her husband, hers forever, to love and to cherish.

The pull of their mutual, irresistible attraction made her scoot closer to him. He enfolded her in a possessive embrace and together they tumbled onto the bed, their lips instantly finding their way to the other's mouth. And as she completely surrendered to his caresses, she also felt her body quiver and burn with an odd kind of impatience, one she had only momentarily experienced the previous evening. She was at this moment much more aware of every touch, contact, friction, smell, sound and taste than she had been the first time: the way her breasts were pressed to his chest, its hair teasing her tender, so sensitive flesh, the salty flavor of his perspiration as her lips and tongue traveled down his neck, the still unfamiliar scent of their mingled arousal filling her nostrils, intoxicating like the bouquet of a rich wine… Her womb and her heart were pounding in synergy like drums, so that her body opened up on its own volition under his, instinctively calling for the fulfillment she still had no consciousness of.

Sully did not hesitate. Truth be told, he could not really control his reaction to such an unequivocal invitation, his body instinctively answering the age-old appeal. Once again, their bodies met and fused together with unbelievable ease They were one, and Sully felt at the top of the world that she could want him that much.

To her, it felt like an immense relief, and yet her body craved more, and the more she received, the more she wanted. She could not pinpoint what it was that her body was seeking so ardently. She only knew that this craving felt like she was lost at sea in the midst of a hurricane of sheer delight, its huge waves whipping her up higher and higher, while she remained steadfastly anchored to him…

Determined to bring her over the edge with him this time round, Sully hoisted himself up, freeing one of his hands to reach down between their joined bodies, finding the little pearl of flesh, hard and swollen. Delicately teasing at first, he slowly intensified his caresses, making her whimper with each swipe of his thumb.

Oh, the way he knew precisely where she needed to be touched! The way his movements were matching so flawlessly the rolling motion of her inner tempest! And suddenly, she felt like she could not take it anymore, it was too much, too powerful... She panicked, calling out to him, then something exploded within her, knocking her senseless… Nothing existed anymore save a still, odd kind of peace. _Had she died?_

The combination of his slow but powerful thrusts and his unfettered, purposeful fondling eventually brought forth their intended effects. With a mixture of pride and reverence, Sully watched her rolling her head from side to side, her eyelashes fluttering, her lips quivering and her chest heaving with ragged breaths; her soft moans punctuated his movements. This bewitching chant was seriously threatening what little control he had left, but what finally succeeded in overpowering him was the sweet, warm rhythmic pressure of her climax upon him, and the plea in her voice as she called his name in a long, drawn-out moan, to which he responded in kind when the supreme pleasure overcame him and he collapsed under its blast…

Slowly, their surroundings came back into Sully's focus. Michaela lay unsettlingly motionless and silent under him. Worried, he summoned the last remnants of his energy to disengage himself and roll onto his side. She still failed to react. Had he hurt her in the spur of the moment? Had she fainted? A flutter of her eyelashes, a sigh escaping from her lips and the tiniest trace of a smile put paid to his concern as he realized that she still hadn't recovered from what had just happened. His heart swelled with love for this extraordinary woman who brought him so much happiness. As he had done earlier, he drank in the slightest details of her radiant beauty and he found her lovelier and more beguiling in the afterglow of love than ever. He wanted to imprint this moment, this vision, in his memory, forever. Careful not to disturb her, he draped his arm across her midriff and watched her falling asleep, sprawled out in the posture in which pleasure had struck her down, until he also indulged into a well-deserved nap .


	5. Once Upon a Ring

Michaela stirred when she heard a door creak, and then softly shut, followed by the shuffling of Sully's feet on the thick carpet as he approached the bed. She yawned and opened her eyes.

"Hey, Sleepin' Beauty. I was 'bout to kiss you awake… how are ya feelin'?"

Mechanically, yet truthfully, she almost said that she was fine, but her answer died on her lips when she became aware of her position under the coverlet, her legs and arms stretched out like a slender starfish, an unequivocal reminder of what had happened earlier. Her jaw dropped in shock and she blushed furiously before turning ashen. In an instant, she wanted nothing more than to disappear under the bed, shamed by the memory of her wanton abandon.

Sully had no trouble guessing what her change of complexion and expression meant. Perching himself on the side of the bed, he took hold of her hand, thus stopping her from turning away. Still she averted her face, and was chewing on her lower lip anxiously.

"I'm sorry," she croaked, reddening again. Since they had already discussed this matter seriously the night before, Sully realized that the best course of action might be to try and make light of the reason of her embarrassment.

"Sorry? 'Bout what? Oversleepin'?" he teased, deliberately skating around the sensible subject. "Don't worry, I just got up fifteen minutes ago myself. No harm done."

At first, Michaela thought that Sully had misunderstood her excuse, but as she risked a glance at his face, the gleam in his eyes and his matching playful smile told her that he _did_ understand, all too well. Obviously, the way she had acted did not appear to have any kind of negative effect on his attitude toward her. Moreover, Sully seemed genuinely content, as if everything was perfectly normal and natural. _Was it?_ Had he really enjoyed her being so – licentious? _Oh my_ …

Before she had time to recollect more that might make her feel worse, he announced:

"Drew you a bath, and they're gonna bring us lunch in an hour or so. Figured that's enough time for you to get ready, huh?"

"Lunch?" she exclaimed, nearly bolting out of the bed. "Sully, what time is it?"

"Half past eleven."

Michaela was positively aghast. Yet, since the last thing she wanted was for any hotel staff member to see her in her current state of undress, she did not dare waste any more time agonizing over the lateness of the hour, or the fact that just a few hours before, she had been visited by an incubus that had tricked her by assuming the appearance of her husband in her dreams. A tiny thought was tugging at her consciousness, telling her insistently that it hadn't been some unbridled, highly inappropriate fantasy, but that it had indeed happened. And yet… something was missing, like a blank. Her memories of this encounter were vivid but rather jumbled, and something definitely didn't make sense, least of all her reaction. It was as if, for a brief moment, her mind had stood by, disembodied and helpless. _What on earth had happened to her…?_

Sully could see how upset she was from her pursed lips and the deep crease across her brow, and he suddenly wished he had taken the time to talk with her about her very unexpected – at least for her – response to their morning interlude, instead of letting her fall asleep right on the spot. He could have come up with the excuse to help her back into her nightgown, or whatever. Now she was acting as if all his efforts to reassure her about their intimacy had been for naught. _Heck, so much for tryin' to play it down_ …

He silently watched as she wrapped herself modestly into one of the covers and scurried to the bathroom, her eyes lowered. Upset with himself, he sighed dejectedly, and stretched out on the bed to wait for her. He pondered whether he should join her in the bathroom, to apologize maybe, or at least, to talk things through… anything that could restore the loving atmosphere would be most welcome. But all he could do was to strain his ears for the sounds that came from the bathroom. Five minutes before, he had hoped that he would be able to join her in the tub. Unfortunately, this idea seemed in jeopardy for the moment. _Maybe some other time_ …

* * *

Michaela leaned against the closed door, breathing hard to steady her nerves, and tried to focus on the tasks at hand: bathe, dress and do her hair. She hastily folded the thin quilt, pinned up her hair loosely to keep it from getting wet, and stepped into the bathtub. The water was hot, but not unpleasantly so, and the aroma of lavender filled the room and her nostrils. She settled comfortably, allowing herself to relax at last. Her thoughts were still disturbed, but the soothing effect of the lavender oil, as well as the brief moment of complete privacy, helped her begin to examine the last few events and her own thoughts with more lucidity.

Dorothy, when she had tried to explain to her friend what to expect when she would _fall off the log_ , had tried a few other metaphors to describe how she was supposed to feel, but nothing Michaela had experienced could possibly compare… Replaying the entire conversation in her mind, she recalled Dorothy giving her a rather cryptic warning:

"Michaela, if you keep worryin' that much about it, you'll simply never be able to really enjoy yourself! You'll never know that extraordinary, ecstatic feelin' you get when the man you love fills you up completely and you reach paradise together!"

 _Paradise_? Was that how Dorothy had called that disembodying feeling?… True, she had felt like she was about to die… and yet, it had been so different from that moment she had faced her own mortality during the influenza outbreak… it had felt… could it be that, beyond the initial shock, it had actually felt… _astounding… wondrous… heavenly?_ The meaning of what had happened suddenly made sense and she felt incredibly foolish for overreacting. She could only laugh at herself with a disenchanted shake of her head at her own silliness, though a lingering trace of embarrassment remained.

Sully obviously wanted her to enjoy their intimacy as much as he did, and she certainly wished the same for him, but she just couldn't figure out what else she could do besides what she had tried earlier. She wished she had been able to ask Dorothy specifically about the best ways to please a man. Her heavy medical textbooks certainly had not provided her with this particular knowledge, only delivering purely clinical facts. But then again, how did one ask such an impudent question, even to their best friend?

Lost in thought, she mechanically lathered the sponge with soap and ran it along her arms. As it brushed against her left hand, her ring got caught on a fiber, slipped free and dropped into the water with the smallest splash. Frantically, she searched for it, groping around the tub. Her fingers soon closed around the circle of gold, near her foot. Relieved, she clasped it to her chest then kissed it fervently. Holding the precious symbol of her marriage to Sully in her palm, she finally could examine it more closely: it was rather thick and heavy, its surface polished into a smooth, rounded shape, its overall design elegant in its sobriety. In fact, it was just like everything Sully had given her: the house he had built for her, the bed he had carved so painstakingly, not to mention her engagement ring – so many precious symbols of his love. How many women were as lucky as she was to have met and fallen in love with men who would go to such lengths to prove their devotion to their wife as Sully did?…

As the steam from the bath cleared a little, she caught sight of something engraved on the inside. She had to squint to make out the words, but she finally managed to decipher _My Heartsong_. Though she had never come across that word before, she had no trouble understanding its meaning, its force, and felt immediately awash with the amount of devotion held in this one little word. And it was all, and only, for her. Tears welled in her eyes, and she suddenly found herself praying, thanking the Almighty for bringing Sully into her life, and for the boundless gift of his love. She was more than lucky: she was blessed.

She never knew what made her turn around and look at the door, but when she did, he was standing there, watching her with such adoration that it took her breath away.

* * *

Sully had been patiently waiting for Michaela to proceed with her ablutions, sitting up in their bed, his mind unfocused, trying not to think of her, of the rivulets of water trickling down her arms, her back… on her breasts… They had been married for little less than twenty-four hours, they had made love twice already – and quite intensely this morning – but instead of fulfillment, all he could feel was an overpowering, endless, aching need to be near her, with her, to see her, to touch her… It was starting to worry him. Here he was, feeling like some lovesick boy, or one of those dime novel characters, under the influence of a powerful philter. That thought only was enough to bring a wry smirk to his face: he certainly had fought his feelings for her in the beginning, to no avail. The harder he had resisted his attraction to her, the fiercer it had become. She had truly bewitched him with her original, breathtaking beauty, but also her generous soul, her caring heart, her strong will, her intelligence and open-mindedness… In comparison to her qualities, her shortcomings only endeared her more to him for there was no pettiness in them, they were merely highlights to her personality…

At this point in his contemplations, his eyes strayed back to the bathroom door. Had he imagined she was calling out to him? No sound could be heard, and yet, he felt drawn to the bathroom by an irresistible force. Slowly, as if in a kind of trance, he rose from the bed, wandered to the door, quietly pushed it open, and stopped, mesmerized by the sight of the woman he adored. Though he remained silent, breathless and still, she seemed to sense his presence for she turned around.

Their eyes locked through the scented mist, all coherent thought instantly vanishing from both their minds. A second – or was it a minute – later, Sully knelt next to the tub and, cupping her face, kissed her. Just as spellbound as he was, Michaela passionately responded, pressing herself closer, not caring that they were splashing water all over the floor or that she was still naked and all wet while he was fully clothed, his ironed dress shirt now drenched and sticking to his skin. They clung to each other like they were both drowning, fingers knotted at each other's nape, their breath, tongues and lips merging together.

Sully finally managed to regain his senses enough to pull away. He wanted nothing more than to be with her again, but he had to be reasonable: they had skipped breakfast already – he was quite hungry, to say the least – and he knew her well enough to guess how mortified she would be if they were to keep this up and the waiter bringing their lunch came knocking right while they were… _busy_.

"Lunch's gonna be here soon," he reminded her in a somewhat strangled voice. That was enough for Michaela to snap out of her trance as well, though her heart, like Sully's, kept on beating too fast and hard, and she felt rather lightheaded. And of course, she blushed as she realized that again, she had been in danger of completely losing control. _What's wrong with me?_ But though she was struggling to regain her composure, the feel of the wedding ring clasped tightly in her hand was there to remind her of the emotion that had prompted this unguarded moment. Unfolding her fingers to reveal the ring to him, she said:

"Sully? I saw what's engraved in my wedding ring. I – don't… I…"

"Wanna know what Heartsong means?"

The corner of her mouth turned up: "I suppose it's how the Cheyenne call their soul mate, isn't it?"

"Yep, that's it, but not only…" He hesitated, wondering whether it was worth bringing back the memory of the terrible ordeal of her abduction. "How about I tell ya while we eat? How's that?"

She approved with a small nod, intrigued by the flicker of dismay that had flashed in his eyes.

Her curiosity and the prospect of listening to Sully spinning tales about Cheyenne customs on love and marriage prompted her to forgo some of her self-consciousness when he assisted her to get out of the tub and was the one to towel her dry. Of course, Sully did take advantage of the whole process to ply her with tender caresses, his hands lingering on her soft curves. She instantly thought back to their stolen moment during the cattle drive. Back then his ministrations had resulted in the gentlest stirring of desire within her, but now her need for his touch felt much more like a blazing fire, burning everything in its wake. She couldn't help but shiver and gasp when he gently ran the towel over her breasts and between her legs, her emotions conflicted between the fierce urge to give in to the temptation of doing _this_ right here and now, and her annoyance at being unable to have any control on her feelings and reactions. The small voice of her reason, this time sounding very much like Sully's, told her that it was all right for her to enjoy his attentions and to revel in all those little things that deepened their intimacy, which surely were a natural part of a healthy marital relationship.

Sully smiled to himself at her reaction, though his own was again getting uncomfortable. But he had to admit that he quite enjoyed the way their honeymoon was turning out so far. He had feared that she would be much more awkward around him. She certainly had exceeded his wildest expectations, though it was clear that she had also overstepped hers and that she remained somewhat insecure about the still unfamiliar territory that was the physical part of their marriage. He had truly meant it when he had told her they had all the time in the world – and he knew there were no more maps for this than there had been for their courtship.

He finally put the large, damp towel on a bar by the door, and wrapped the folded quilt around her so she would not have to go back to the bedroom without a stitch on, since she had forgotten to take her clothes and undergarments. She flashed him a bashful smile of thanks as she walked past him.

Michaela picked up the first dress and underclothes she could lay her hand on, and rushed back to the washroom, just in time to hear the knock on the door heralding their meal. She dressed the best she could, but unfortunately there was no Colleen, no sister or close friend, no chambermaid available to assist her with lacing her corset up. Shyly, she peeked into the room, and upon seeing that the bellboy had already left, she called out to her husband:

"Sully? Could you help me please?"

"Sure!"

She walked towards him, noticing that he had put on a dry shirt, its light grayish blue color a true compliment to his eyes. After a brief kiss on his cheek, she turned around to present her back to him, the bodice of her dress gaping open to reveal the loosened laces of the corset.

"Did ya really gotta put that thing on? Ya sure don't need a corset, Michaela!"

"I do, if I am to wear the gowns I brought along. The only thing I can wear without a corset is my traveling outfit. And I certainly can't wear it every day for two entire weeks, can I?"

"Why didn't you bring your regular skirts and blouses? It woulda been more comfortable for ya to get around! This is Denver, it ain't Washington or Boston…"

"We're staying in the most luxurious hotel of all Colorado, Sully. And we'll have to leave of the room, eventually," she murmured, her tone and comment clearly hinting that she had not envisioned spending their entire stay locked up in their suite.

"All right, all right, we'll make do," Sully conceded, thinking of his buckskins still packed away. Neither had he expected them to stay put all the time, no matter how exciting was the idea of never leaving the bed and making love like there would be no tomorrow. But he still was a man who needed the outdoors… like Michaela was a cultured Bostonian lady who enjoyed fancy dinners and operas. He had hoped they could rent a couple of horses, get a picnic basket and go for a ride out of the city once or twice. He decided to put that plan on the back burner for the time being. If necessary, he would buy simpler clothes for her to wear.

He yanked at the strings and hooks until the stiff contraption fit her body completely, then worked on fastening the clasps of the bodice, and concluded with a soft kiss on her shoulder.

"C'mon, let's eat before it gets cold," he whispered in her ear.

They ate in companionable silence, occasionally feeding one another, their eyes locked for the entire meal and sparkling with affection.

"So, are you going to tell me about the inscription in my ring?" Michaela asked, her coy smile belying the innocence of her question. Sully grinned back, his heart rate accelerating a little: he was not sure she was even aware of how alluring she was when she looked at him like that, how flirtatious her voice could sound. Not that he minded, as long as it was only for his benefit, but the power of seduction that shone right out of her had already put her in delicate situations before, and would certainly lead to other misunderstandings in the future, especially now, for it seemed to have grown tenfold. Worse, she did not appear to be cognizant of the effect her charm had on men, which made it all the more dangerous. Even now that she was his in every way, that would not stop them form crossing paths with men who would surely succumb to her beauty and wit, and maybe get the wrong ideas… He shuddered, fighting his imagination with all his might as it conjured up the vision of other men openly ogling Michaela, coveting her… like One Eye. That particular Dog Soldier had been known to hold such hate against the whites that he had deemed below his status of a great Cheyenne warrior to do so much as to come into direct contact with his victims. But Sully had certainly not missed the concupiscent gleam in his unique eye when he had leered at her… the memory brought him back to their initial conversation.

Again, Michaela saw Sully's loving smile change into a haunted expression she couldn't quite fathom. She reached out to squeeze his hand lightly with hers.

"It seems to be disturbing you, Sully. I'm sorry. If it brings back something painful to you… then we don't have to talk about this now, nor ever, if you'd rather – …"

"Nah, it ain't that. Not in the way ya think, I mean," he said, his voice low and thoughtful. His eyes cleared, and then he simply told her:

"You see, when the Dog Soldiers took ya, and I had to track 'em down, I came across a camp where I knew you'd been. All that was left behind were women and a few old men. No one would tell me where they had taken you next – that is… until I told 'em that I had to find you 'cause you were my Heartsong…"

"Sully…"

"That word… that one word… holds even more meanin' for me because, if I hadn't said it, that old woman wouldna probably never told me anythin', I wouldna found you in time to rescue you from One Eye… and who knows where we'd be right now?" He brought her left hand to his lips and kissed it fervently, silently thanking the Great Spirit for bringing them together.

Michaela was speechless. The magnitude of the meaning of the words engraved in her wedding band was even greater than she had imagined. And it made her more grateful than ever that this wonderful man was in her life. She wondered how she could possibly love him back as much as he loved her. Swallowing the tears that threatened to spill, she moved closer and wrapped her arms tightly around him. Even the most heartfelt "I love you" seemed cavalier in the face of what he had just revealed to her.

They hugged silently for a while, their hearts beating as one and their souls singing in perfect unison.


	6. Shall we Dance?

It would have been all too easy to use Michaela's emotions running high as an incentive to make love again. Yet, Sully thought it better to wait another few hours. He fleetingly wondered how long his patience and self-restraint would hold out at this rate, gnawed away by the need he had of her, which seemed to have grown every minute since the moment he had closed the door of the train carriage. Yet, what he needed the most at that moment was a breath of fresh air – _and fast_.

It took a lot of willpower for him to pull away, even more so with the way she was looking at him, her whole heart in her eyes. Such adoration – _for him_. That was still so hard to believe… He felt hardly deserving.

"Whatdya say we go for a walk around town, do some sightseein'?"

Her throat too constricted to speak, Michaela merely nodded. She could tell by the way he had held her, the rasp in his voice, the fixity of his gaze upon her and the subtle change in his body heat, that he would have loved nothing better than for them to stay in the room and be together in the marital sense once again. It was… _thrilling_ … to feel oneself so badly wanted, needed. It was also flattering and reassuring, for that meant that he was pleased with her, despite her lack of experience. But it was frightening as well: their attraction to each other ran so deep, like a warmly lit yet bottomless abyss that she feared would swallow her entirely if she were to totally surrender to its pull.

She had always prided herself in remaining independent, and so had he, but somehow, ironically, they had found themselves relying on each other more and more as the days went by, since the very beginning. With time they had come to accept, even appreciate the fact that they needed one another. But now, this need had taken on a complete new meaning, a new depth – for her, and it seemed for him as well. So much had happened during the last hours, it was all so overwhelming… Would the magic ever fade? End? Or would it become more powerful, if such a thing were possible?…

Before leaving, Michaela made a short trip to the washroom to do her hair more neatly an put on some jewelry. She quickly styled her long tresses into an elegant braided chignon; then, as she sifted through the slightly faded but still beautiful velvet case she had received so long ago for her debut, she felt a bittersweet pang in her heart as she was reminded of her father. He had presented her with the box and her first pair of ear bobs, the dangling pearls she was presently looking for, as a peace offering, after she had loudly rebelled against her mother's plans to throw a ball with the totally transparent intention of parading her in front of every eligible men in Massachusetts.

Along with the pearl drops, she also found her engagement ring, which she had removed the morning before. With a satisfied smile, she slid it onto her fourth finger, right above her wedding band. Each ring complimented the other, and it would be long before she tired of admiring the way they graced her hand.

When she joined Sully at the door of their suite, she was still casting glances at the set. Sully noticed, of course, so he took her hand and brought it to his lips. He had such a way of kissing her hand: she had always enjoyed this gentlemanly gesture, and Sully's was so reverent and adoring that it made her feel like she was a fairy tale princess. Impulsively, she threw her arms around his neck and leaned forward to kiss and hug him, like she had done when he had slipped the engagement ring on her finger on Valentine's Day.

"Let's go," she entreated when she pulled back, her eyes alight with love and tenderness, eager to explore the outside world through _their_ eyes. He answered with an indulgent smile, ready to follow her to the end of the world.

The afternoon went by pleasantly, as they strolled along the streets of Denver. The town was still by far much smaller than Boston or Washington, and with the damage caused by devastating fires, followed by a major flood a few years before, old, scarred buildings rubbed shoulders with brand new ones, some of which had not been built yet when Michaela and Sully had come just before the previous Thanksgiving.

They did not talk much, both privately contemplating their new status. Was it only yesterday that they were standing in front of the Reverend, their family and friends, pledging their love for one another and affirming their spiritual bond? Was it only yesterday that they had definitely sealed their union during an unforgettable train ride?

 _Married…I'm **married** … I * **am** * married… to Sully…_ the single-minded thought was flitting about in Michaela's consciousness like a butterfly in a meadow full of wildflowers, and it seemed that her heart had been unable to settle back into a normal rhythm ever since… she couldn't remember. Ages ago. Since she had met him, really. He had always had that effect on her. He had been the one who had truly brought her heart and soul to life, the only one who could elicit that thrill within her, no matter the circumstances, just by being there… Thus, it was the most logical thing that he was the one destined to awaken her body, to enlighten her to the many delights of wedded life.

Sully, on the other hand, was simply enjoying his new wife's presence and reveling in the fact that he had her all to himself. He could forget for a little while that she was a prominent citizen of Colorado Springs, both as the town's now well-respected doctor, but also as a highly influential council member. Jake might be the mayor, but it was still Michaela who had the last word during many a council meeting. Sully felt suddenly awash with pride as his thoughts revolved around her role in the lives of so many people, her dedication to everything she did. Still, not having to share her time and care with the world was too rare an occasion for him not to enjoy it to its fullest.

They had been demurely holding hands, only talking when trying to decide which way to go, but their eyes spoke volumes every time they met. Yet, having arrived at this point of his musings, Sully suddenly could not help himself and pulled her into a tight hug, planting a firm kiss on her lips. Seizing her slender waist in his strong hands, he lifted her off her feet and exuberantly spun her around high in the air, not caring in the least about the curious, amused or disapproving looks passers-by might cast their way.

Michaela let out a squeal of surprise at his actions, before she burst into carefree, infectious laughter, with Sully joining in as he gently set her down again and held her close. As before, there was no need for words as each could positively feel the other's complete joy, and they resumed their walk, this time with their arms wound around each other's waist, pausing occasionally for a few sweet, discreet kisses.

They reached a park in the outskirts of town and sat for a spell on a bench. A few children were playing nearby, enjoying the sunny afternoon with their parents or their nannies. A young couple sauntered by, holding securely onto the hands of a chubby toddler who was babbling animatedly, her parents smiling bemusedly as they were obviously trying to make sense out of the endless string of gibberish that poured out of her tiny mouth.

Michaela bit her lip, unconsciously passing her hand over her abdomen, as she watched the family walking away with a twinge of wistful longing. More than anything, she yearned to give Sully a child, the little girl they both hoped for, who would be his flesh and blood – _their_ flesh and blood – a living testimony of their love that would definitely bind their family together. A gentle caress of his fingers upon hers and his tender kiss to her temple told her he had sensed her thoughts and shared them. She turned her head, her gaze locking with his. Was it the love she felt, their closeness, or the clear, vibrant sky above them, that made the blue of his eyes so mesmerizing at this moment? She could not tell. But the need to go back to their suite, or anywhere where they would be quite alone, rose from the very quick of her. Sully again read her thoughts – or more likely deciphered correctly the message in her slightly hooded eyes. He, too, felt suddenly a bit too much out in the open, though he was not quite ready to return to the hotel yet. He scanned the area around them, searching for a spot where they could steal a few minutes of privacy. His gaze was drawn back to her face, this time focused on her lips, longing to see their soft coral hue turn into a deep, inflamed vermilion, to taste again their sweetness… Oh, how he yearned to hear her sigh and feel its vibrations under his fingers as he caressed her throat, how he craved the delicate yet intoxicating fragrance which emanated from her soft skin…

He stood up and pulled her resolutely toward the farthest exit of the park, until they reached a dense clump of trees. The area looked unkempt compared to the rest of the park, hinting at a lack of visits, which was the exact amount of seclusion they needed. After they had cast a last prudent look around and strained their ears to catch any suspicious noise to ensure they were indeed _alone_ , they wasted no more time as their lips collided hungrily, the kiss deepening urgently, leaving them breathless in a matter of seconds. Of course, they both knew they could not permit their passionate explorations going any further - they could still be interrupted by anyone. However, they remained steadfastly locked in each other's arms for some precious moments, reveling in the joy of being together, very much in love, and married at last.

After a while, they wrenched themselves away from each other, gasping: rather than being appeased by this stolen moment, their mutual longing had only strengthened, burning so hot that they were mere seconds away from sinking to the ground - _like animals in heat_. The realization hit Michaela hard, and the rosy flush of desire that was coloring her skin turned to the burning red of embarrassment. Here it was again, that whirlwind of conflicting feelings… _Would she ever be free of them?_

Since her confession the previous night, and knowing her as he did, Sully understood her sudden change of mood, as he observed wariness creeping into her expressive eyes and the subtle withdrawal in her attitude. He allowed his hold on her waist and shoulders to slacken so they could gain some time and space to compose themselves before heading back. He gently threaded fingers with her, gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, and led her out of the thicket. They resumed their leisurely stroll around the grounds of the park, their carefree mood eventually restored.

As they reached another part of the park, they passed by a small gazebo, under the shade of which an old man was playing his fiddle, a worn out cap at his feet displaying a few meager dimes. The instrument looked as shabby as its owner, yet the tune that came out of it was entrancing, and one that made Michaela's eyes widen in recognition.

"Listen Sully, its _Women of Ireland_!"

Sully chuckled indulgently at her almost childlike excitement and the sparkle in her eyes as she turned to look at him. Grinning, he steered her up the few steps to the wooden floor of the gazebo, and then he initiated a waltz, trying his best to match his somewhat fumbling feet to the rhythm of the music. Michaela, too giddy to care that it was actually much too slow for any kind of dance, simply went along and savored the enjoyment of being in her husband's arms and dancing with him.

"The music's beautiful, don't you think?"

"Sure, but nowhere as beautiful as the woman of Ireland who's dancin' with me right now!" he answered lovingly, his compliment bringing without fail a blush to her cheeks. It seemed that the pink glow had never quite left her face since the moment she had walked down the aisle the day before, only getting more pronounced now and then, but never disappearing completely.

She almost retorted, out of her habit and need to always be exact, that she was only remotely Irish, but thought better of it, and just flashed him what she meant to be a grateful grin. But, like earlier during their lunch, she was not aware of the alluring radiance that emanated from her, which was enough to make Sully's heart skip several beats and fill to bursting. _She's so beautiful_ , he thought. She was truly a sight to behold as she whirled so gracefully around with him. The light echo of their steps on the floorboards and the swish of her skirts and petticoats kept with the music, while her beaming smile made her enjoyment of dancing delightfully obvious. Holding her in his arms as they danced brought Sully momentarily back to the time he was forced to sit and watch her dance with William Burke in Boston, her hooped red dress swooshing merrily. How breathtaking she had been! But now, she was in _his_ arms, and to his eyes she was even more resplendent. _Sweet revenge_ …

The musician had to pause for a few minutes to tune up his violin before starting another melody, causing the newlyweds' bubble to burst. They left the gazebo almost regretfully, but not before giving the old man a generous tip to thank him for the entertainment.

Their steps brought them straight back to the hotel at great speed as they both longed to retreat to the privacy of their suite. They made a stop in the dining room to partake of an early supper, for which they were courteously directed to a table in a corner. Their relative isolation allowed them to exchange copious charged looks and gentle, discreet touches without being too conspicuous to the other patrons. They barely registered what was on the menu and even skipped dessert, so anxious were they to be alone.

However, the second Sully locked the door of their suite, Michaela froze with insecurity and nervousness. She certainly had come a long way since the night before, they had had the most wonderful time all day, and yet she could not stem her fears of being hopelessly inadequate or worse, too clumsily forward to please her husband. Her doubts were returning with a vengeance, and she was at a loss for how to remedy them.

"Frettin' again, ain't ya?"

She jumped in surprise, cutting her eyes to his face only to find it mere inches from hers, the blue of his eyes subtly hypnotic as he read her thoughts and feelings like an open book. She stood there, captivated like the prey that knows instinctively it cannot escape its raptor.

A slow, sensuous smile spread on his lips and he inched closer, his arms circling her waist in slow motion to press her flush against his chest. He then instilled a light sway to their bodies.

"It's kinda like a dance, one we gotta learn all the steps _together_ ," he breathed in her ear, the tickle delicious to her skin, "learn how the other's body works, reacts… to what, when… the right touches, the right kisses… the right pressure, the right rhythm… "

Michaela blushed to the deepest shade of crimson at the suggestiveness of both his words and his voice and at her body's reaction to them. She had a moment of wanting to flee from his embrace as a means to escape from the intensity of her feelings, yet she remained where she was, allowing his gentle rocking motion to soothe her into acceptance. She wanted so desperately to please him. And in order to do just that, she needed to follow his directions. He so obviously wanted her to give up her inhibitions, her shyness, like when he had taught her to share Whitman's erotic poetry without jumping up in embarrassment. Back then, he had told her that courting was like reading a book, all chapters of which she had to read in order… It seemed that marriage was like that, too, and if she was honest with herself, she would have to admit that the chapters regarding the conjugal duties were actually much more agreeable – more exciting, really – than what she had ever anticipated. Unfortunately, that did not make them easier to read, it made them harder and more confusing. Yet she was resolute: the two of them had already overcome so many obstacles together that surely they could surmount the remaining barriers of her reserve. If anything, the events of the last thirty hours had been striking testimony that they were on the right track.

"If it's a dance, then… you lead – and I'll follow …" she breathed, her rather brazen intimation making her cheeks prickle with heat.

Sully leaned back enough to see her face. If not for the intense blush, and the determination etched across her features, he would have seriously doubted what he had just heard. But he did not need to have her say it twice. In fact he decided to play through that dancing idea of his.

He momentarily released her and took a couple of steps backwards before he bowed to her like a true gentleman, and asked: "May I have this dance, Madam?" the formality of his stance belied by his tender smile and playful tone.

Chuckling, Michaela plunged into her most lady-like curtsy, playing along, her amusement winning over her nervousness. She daintily placed her hand on his and stepped forward, so he could wrap his arm round her waist, as if they were indeed about to waltz.

"One…" He took another step and tightened his hold on her, so their bodies were pressed much closer than what would have been deemed appropriate in public.

"Two…" He brought their joined hands to his chest, his thumb tracing slow, sensuous circles onto the back of her hand. _Right pressure… right rhythm…_ He certainly knew what he was doing, because this simple, still chaste contact was enough to make her heart pound erratically.

"Three…" He brushed his nose against hers, bringing his lips tantalizingly close to her mouth, so she could feel his hot breath on her skin. When he made no further overtures, she understood it was her turn.

"One…" She placed a trail of delicate, teasing kisses along his jaw line.

"Two…" She ran her hand down his shoulder to his elbow, then back up.

"Three…" She pressed herself even closer, so that their joined hands were trapped in her cleavage, and he would only have to turn his hand and move his fingers to explore her décolletage. _How audacious_ , she mused, her heart skipping another beat.

"One…" He brought her hand to his lips and kissed each fingertip in an excruciatingly slow fashion, all the while holding her gaze.

"Two…" With the back of his index finger, he traced the contours of her face, along her chin, down her throat, which fluttered like the breast of a cooing dove during mating season. He stopped barely an inch away from the neckline of her dress, totally bewitched by the sight of her breasts straining enticingly against the hard fabric of the corset with her heavy breathing.

"Three…" He deftly pulled out the few pins and clips that held the coiled braid in place and combed his fingers through her hair until it cascaded down her back.

"One…" She gently raked her fingers along his scalp and nape. That was when she noticed something different. She didn't ask aloud what he had done with his braid, but her quizzical look compelled him to tell her:

"It was a symbol of the past… Now that I'm startin' a new life with ya, had to let it go… move on…" She didn't pursue the matter, the flash of comprehension in her eyes the only thing needed to let him know she understood. After all, she knew of the Cheyenne custom of cutting one's hair as a sign of mourning.

Sully, not wanting to spoil their seduction, quickly recovered: "Now, where were we?"

A coy smile tugging up the corner of her lips, Michaela resumed her counting.

"Two…" The temptation of his lips was terribly strong, yet she managed to resist a little longer before kissing him. Instead, she undid the top buttons of his shirt and pushed the collar open, her hand slipping inside to find his warm skin and the hard muscles of his shoulder.

"Three…" Now that she had better access to his neck, she let her mouth explore it avidly. The feel, the scent, the taste of his skin against her lips and tongue intoxicated her senses to a dizzying point. She perceived his shivering and the heat of arousal that radiated from his body, and his response made her tremble as well, overwhelmed by the realization of the power she actually had over him.

Sully could not have been more pleased to have her taking to his little scheme like a fish to water. Yet, he swallowed painfully, his desire about to spin out of his control much sooner than he had expected. What he had not expected either, was that her touch would feel so enthralling, her voice would sound so enchanting, the fragrance that wafted from her warm skin would seem so heady, or the sparkle in her eyes would electrify him so powerfully. In the fading light of dusk, without the benefit of a lamp, their colors shimmered like molten gold in striking harmony with the dark coppery silk of her hair and the rosy velvet of her skin, like she was a precious idol, a goddess to worship, at the feet of whom he could picture himself kneeling in adoration…

Giving himself a mental shake, for fear that their _dance_ might be brought to an abrupt stop if he were to completely lose himself in admiring her, he silently debated whether to keep the proceedings to a slow pace or hasten them, only to realize that she was staring at him, puzzlement at war with expectation on her face. He thought of the time he had spent out in the woods to strengthen his stamina, and that gave him the necessary confidence to carry on with his original plan.

"One…" he allowed himself to give in to the urge of again tasting her lips, ever so softly suckling first the upper one, fine, delicate like a flower petal, then the bottom one, fuller, deliciously fleshy like a ripe fruit. Instinctively, she reacted, her mouth opening under his, her tongue ready to meet his, but he pulled back. "Huh – uh – uh," he teasingly chided as she raised herself up on her toes to kiss him back and deeper. He had felt the effect of that particular kind of kiss had on both of them, the sudden acceleration of her heartbeat reverberated against his chest and matching his own, and the telltale catch of her breath. _Good_.

"Two…" His mouth followed the path his finger has previously traced, leaving a wet trail down her neck and along the neckline of her dress, until he could press his lips to her cleavage, drinking in thirstily the softness there. Again, the same amorous flutter running down her throat and chest answered his ministrations. _Perfect_.

"Three…" His eyes remained riveted to her breasts. With the hard material of the corset barring his way to the exquisite treasures, he had to fight a sudden urge to go look for those bandage scissors so he could just cut the offending device off, and the rest of her clothing for that matter. Yet he managed to summon enough patience to undo one by one the tiny clasps of her dress until it sagged to her feet in a cloud of silk, revealing her feminine curves trapped in their prison-like corset and bustle. _What's she gonna do, now?_

"One…" Just as he had done with her dress, she reciprocated with his vest and dress shirt, her usually nimble and efficient fingers now fumbling with the buttons. Funny how something that easy – and ordinary! – could turn out to feel so… momentous when it was her husband, her _lover_ , she was undressing!

"Two…" Now that the shirt was hanging open, her eyes were drawn to the shadowy line of tan flesh that stood out in sharp contrast with the light-colored cotton. She hesitated: should she unfasten his trousers now or keep that part of the disrobing process for a little later? Should she slide her hands inside his shirt? Should she dare caress his chest the way her instinct demanded? Could she allow herself to be so bold…? _I want you to do what feels right for you – I want you to listen to your heart, not to your mind_ , he had told her this morning. Loving him was the rightest thing in the world – in _her_ world – and showing him just how much, its most natural consequence. Indeed, when she pressed her palms to his chest and let them glide up to nudge his clothes off his shoulders, it felt so right that she wondered why she had ever had any qualms. Again, she admired his virility, and she marveled at the sensation of his muscles tautening under the feather-light caress of her fingers.

"Three…" Revenge had never tasted sweeter as she got even with him for his heart-stopping, much too teasing kiss, by reaching up to clasp his head so she could return the favor, wickedly making the brush of her lips on his even lighter, but longer… so much longer… until he, too, tried to deepen their contact. When she pulled back, he implored: "'Chaela!" What was it with the way he was moaning her name? How peculiar that the needful utterance of it, in his unique, so seductive way, was enough to elicit such a thrill of longing that went straight to her womb. How amazing to perceive the abrupt flow of blood surging through her veins, to feel her insides turned to liquid, eagerly preparing to receive him intimately. Her body _did_ know what to do – Dorothy had been right.

They had both reached the point where they were more than ready to stop counting their moves. The ensuing kisses were predictably electric and feverish, yet they kept at alternating their movements as they finished undressing, caressing their way to each other's skin until nothing hampered their roaming hands anymore.

Night was closing in and they could barely see each other for the darkness that enveloped them, the few street lamps outside providing barely enough light to discern their silhouettes. Sully stepped away to crack a match and light one of the bedside lamps, then turned around to face her again, allowing her to get a good view of him as he stood still, naked and fully aroused. Breath hitched in her throat as she beheld the phenomenon, now truly acknowledging the effect she had on him and she raised eyes darkened with desire back to his face, so overcome that she even forgot to be self-conscious of her own nudity.

Yet, he sensed an uncertainty threatening to tarnish the sensual atmosphere, brought upon by his breaking the embrace only to light a lamp, and he couldn't let something so trivial thwart them, now could he? Especially when she stood before him, catlike eyes blazing and spellbinding like those of a panther on the prowl, her soft, lithe body finally exposed unabashedly.

"One…" He stepped closer. Her face broke into a full-fledged smile, the seductive glint still apparent under the screen of her lashes.

"Two…" She too approached him, and then their bodies touched from head to toe, their foreheads pressed together, their legs entangled, their fingers laced together.

"Three…" His mouth closed over hers, his kiss demanding and giving altogether, as he slowly guided her to the bed. Soon they were lying amidst the bed covers, locked into a fierce embrace, both torn between that raging, almost animal desire that was flogging their senses, and the reluctance to put an end to such a delightful prelude to their encounter. Instinct won out, as their dance took a much more intimate turn.

Pinned under his weight, she waited with bated breath for the moment when he would join them as one. A long raspy sigh escaped her lips when he did and her entire body bristled into hard gooseflesh when he started moving within her. His hands sensuously slid down her thighs, gently guiding her legs around his waist, then glided up again to rest on her haunches. It was indescribable, overwhelming – she almost cried at the onslaught of pleasurable sensations as he initiated a grinding motion while clutching her bottom more firmly. She felt her heart about to explode the way it was beating so hard and fast, and she could barely breathe. Blindly, her hand shot outwards, groping around to find something to squeeze to help her withstand the almost unbearable tension that griped her body as she braced herself against the same mind-blowing experience she had gone through that morning. Her fingers encountered Sully's and they intertwined together immediately.

"Don't fight it," he panted near her ear as he struggled to keep his motion steady against the natural urge to move faster and stronger.

She wanted to tell him the very same thing, aware of the restraint he was imposing on himself waiting for her. The words just refused to come out: she could not bring herself to muster that kind of boldness yet. It felt a little more comfortable to place her free hand around his hip, applying a fluttering, tentative pressure on his buttock to communicate what she wanted. It was all the encouragement Sully needed to totally unleash his passion, his thrusts instantly picking up speed and power. In turn, it was all she needed to surrender herself to the tide, and the uncomfortable stiffness in her body yielded to a much more pleasant feeling of anticipation.

"Good… that's good," he crooned with a proud grin when he perceived the subtle change in her demeanor. The knowledge that she was pleasing him excited her further. She started quivering as she was getting closer to the release of her passion, her hold on Sully's hand tightening to let him know. Their eyes met again and locked. Sully was just as close to his own climax so, to give their dance of love its appropriate conclusion, he mouthed: "one… two… three…" the counting synchronized with his last three pushes. The effect was immediate and they both cried out, their pleasure emphasized by the sight, sound and feel of each other in the throes of ecstasy, their bodies shaking convulsively under the same force.

Then, with a lazy trail of moist kisses down her neck and breasts to her navel, Sully gently slid out and down to lay his head on the warm silk of her stomach, one of his hands still held firmly in hers, while the other came to rest caressingly against the curve of her waist.

When she heard him sigh several times and felt his body stop trembling and cool down, she assumed he was falling asleep, just like that, his head pillowed on her abdomen. The closeness he was maintaining was yet again something she had never dared to imagine and she again wavered between uneasiness, considering his somewhat provocative position between her legs, and utmost satisfaction. She reached down and softly ran her fingers though his hair, willing her touch to convey what she was feeling that she couldn't put into words.

This time, she did not fall asleep for she was kept wide awake by the memory of what had just happened vividly replaying over and over in her mind's eye, as well as in her flesh. Her body refused to calm down as ripples of pleasure were still coursing on her skin like the aftershocks of an earthquake. She could not believe how uninhibited she had acted and if Sully had not let her know how much he had appreciated her receptiveness and passionate response, she would have been thoroughly mortified. To think that she hadn't given free rein to all the unspeakable urges and desires that had been flooding her! Where would they take her if she were to act upon them?

Sully, with his ear pressed to her torso, could tell that she was not calming down, her skin still hot and damp, her heart still pounding loudly and her heavy breathing resounding in the quiet room. He crawled back up so he could look straight into her eyes, a reassuring smile on his lips.

"You all right?" he murmured as his arms wound themselves around her in a protective embrace. She only saw loving concern in his eyes, nothing but pure, deep abiding love. How she loved him, too! Tongue-tied, a hard lump of emotions stuck in her throat, she merely raised her hand to ever so lightly stroke his cheek. Words never seemed more futile as he leaned across to press his lips to hers. There was neither urgency nor erotic edge in his kiss, only deeply heartfelt affection.

The kiss lasted a long, long time, as long as ten, maybe twenty or even a hundred of them would have, breaking up only to resume again unhurriedly. To Michaela's frayed nerves with the quite shocking discovery of just how intense and overpowering her own sexuality could get, his quiet, gentle affirmation of devotion was like a soothing balm. He did not relinquish her lips until he was sure she was fully relaxed, and pulled away ever so slowly to watch her close her eyes and fall asleep. He then reached over her shoulder, very carefully as to not disturb her, to turn down the lamp, then back down to tug the white sheet over them, before resuming his deliberately chaste touch on her arms, shoulders and back.

Unknowingly, Sully had just proven wrong, for the third time, the one thing Dorothy and Elizabeth Quinn had mutually agreed on and warned his bride about, that all men, even the most devoted ones, turned away to sleep once they were done, and that there was no use to expect loving words and caresses from them afterwards. This last conscious thought lingered in her mind until sleep finally claimed her.


	7. Beyond our Control

_A flash of light – A ferocious eye boring into hers – grim, filthy hands clawing at her relentlessly, immobilizing her – and then… There he was! Relief washed over her as he cut the ropes that held her captive and swept her off her feet to carry her to their bed. The rumble of the train was deafening, and she couldn't hear what he was saying. She stood rooted to the spot as she watched him disappear under the quilt, instantly feeling lonely without the warmth of his arms around her. Why had he left her?_

_Another flash – she suddenly landed into one of the recovery rooms, face to face with her mother, who was scowling at her, obviously scandalized._

_Michaela did not have time to reflect on how utterly nonsensical the succession of events seemed to her for a beam of sunlight drew her attention to the squirming form under the covers. She froze in horror when her mother tugged at the quilts to reveal naked likenesses of Sully and herself, caught up in a frenzied coupling, unrestrained, excited grunts and howls echoing eerily into the room and her ears. From where she stood, the whole thing seemed vulgar and so terribly bestial, nothing like the sensual tenderness she would have expected from them… How could two people supposedly so much in love act in such a depraved way? Surely this was nothing but a grotesque parody… She wanted to run, escape, or at least close her eyes and cover her ears to blot out the obscene spectacle before her, but she found herself once again totally paralyzed, transfixed._

_"Aren't you ashamed? Look at yourself, Michaela!" Elizabeth Quinn boomed indignantly. "The years your father and I spent trying to turn you into a well-bred, proper, decent," she enumerated, insisting heavily on the adjectives, "dignified, respectable woman… all gone to waste… to have you behave like… *this*! Aren't you ashamed-shamed-shame-SHAME-…"_

Michaela bolted upright, sweating and panting, disoriented by yet another abrupt change of surroundings. Where was she? Her heart pounded in panic as she tried to regain her senses. It was night time, as indicated by a weak moonlight filtering through the lacy curtains. The mattress beneath her was much softer than the one she'd been sleeping on for the past three years. She was neither at the homestead, nor in the Clinic, but obviously in a hotel room… Then she became conscious of the satiny softness of the bed sheets against her skin – her _bare_ skin. And a presence right beside her, one strong arm protectively and warmly wound around her midsection, A most familiar arm - _Sully's_. A musky scent hung in the air around them, reminiscent of that earlier moment when they had shared their love. No, it had been neither disgusting nor disgraceful. She had felt loved, cherished, desired to the deepest level, beyond measure…

"Michaela? What's wrong?"

 _Oh no, I woke him up_ … Just what she needed, to have him worried, or worse, frustrated with her for being unable to shrug off the puritanical teachings she had grown up with!

"Bad dream? Feelin' poorly?"

She reached for his hand to give it a reassuring pat. No use telling him the already fading details of that silly dream.

"Yes… yes, a bad dream, but I'm fine – really. Go back to sleep. It's nothing."

But Sully would not let the matter rest:

"How come ya had a nightmare?" He gently rubbed her stomach in a circular motion. "Somethin' ya ate?"

It could have been the perfect excuse behind which to hide, and yet she couldn't bring herself to jump on it. And of course Sully picked up on her lack of answer.

"Michaela? Please… tell me?"

Michaela fidgeted a little, at a loss for an adequate answer. Sully could feel her nervousness and even discerned the heat of embarrassment emanating from her. And the only thing that could embarrass her that he knew of was…

"Is it 'bout us makin' love? Did I do somethin' that made ya uncomfortable?"

Michaela's jaw dropped in utter awe. Though he could not possibly know what the dream had been about, much less its hidden meaning, he had guessed that it was somehow related to their intimacy.

"No, you did nothing wrong, nothing at all – please… Truly, it's nothing for you to be concerned about," she assured him, doing her best to keep her tone steady. _No, it's just that I'm not supposed to feel the way I do for you, I'm not supposed to love and want you as strongly as I do… and I'm not supposed to derive any kind of carnal pleasure from my wifely duty to you without feeling positively sinful_. Despite the honest conversation they had shared their first evening as man and wife, despite the fact that the part of herself that strongly opposed the austerity under which she had labored almost all her life had enabled her to enjoy Sully's loving touch and kisses, there remained that skein of restrictions knotted in the recesses of her consciousness. She felt as if she had tugged at the wrong end and only succeeded in coiling it tighter.

Sully wondered whether she was being entirely truthful. Never one to pry usually, he thought of keeping his own counsel, to allow her to open up to him in her own time if something was troubling her, yet, his instinct told him not to let this matter go.

"You havin' second thoughts, maybe?"

"Second thoughts?"

"About us bein' together… 'Bout feelin' too shy to tell me you don't wanna make love, or that I'm goin' too fast for ya..."

"Of course not!" she retorted a bit too forcefully, actually confirming Sully's suspicions. "Why should I have second thoughts?" she added dismissively, in a tone that sounded like that she was more trying to convince herself, than him.

"I'm sorry, Michaela…" he told her softly, with a light caress to her arm.

Not expecting this, she turned to face him.

"What do – what are _you_ sorry about, Sully?"

"I promised ya we'd take it easy, but obviously, it wasn't easy 'nough…" he groused.

Michaela sensed a flurry of panic bubbling at the pit of her stomach as she tried to interpret his meaning and the frown that was creasing his forehead. Had she upset him? Was he disappointed in her now?

"Sully, no, really, it's fine…you've been most gentle and attentive. I – I… I'm telling you, there's nothing for you to worry about."

"Michaela, you're my wife, now… More than ever, you outta tell me when somethin' upsets ya, even if it's somethin' that seems silly to ya. We've always been honest with each other, even when what we had ta say might hurt the other…"

"May I expect the same from you, Sully?" she blurted out before she could stop herself.

"Sure…" he conceded uncomfortably, suddenly realizing how hard it would be to tell her _everything_ , the way he wanted her to do for him…

Michaela perceived his hesitation, and debated within herself about how much of the dream she should actually reveal to him. The part with One Eye? No. He might feel guilty for bringing it up when telling her about the inscription in her wedding ring. And certainly, she could not possibly give him the embarrassing details of the nightmare... She took in a resolved, deep, cleansing breath, and settled back down into his awaiting arms. They lay like this for a little while, both aware that each was still wide awake and waiting for the other to say something – anything. Finally, she allowed herself to tell him:

"Remember our talk just after we arrived here?"

"Yeah…"

"I asked you not to be upset with me if sometimes my reactions are not what they should be…"

"And I told ya not to worry about that." Suddenly it dawned on him that maybe she was embarrassed with herself, and with the way her instincts were taking over when it came to being with him. He briefly smiled inwardly as he recalled her enthusiastic response to many an encounter, even before they were married, all those stolen moments when she had let down her guard enough for him to see that other side of her. He had made the mistake of underestimating the impact her rigid upbringing would have had on her thoughts about him, about the intimacy they were now sharing. He had been blinded by the way she had warmed up to him and to his loving since they had begun courting, by that surging, magnetic force that had drawn them to each other from the beginning, this attraction they both had been powerless to resist. And if there ever was _one_ thing Michaela loathed above anything else, it was feeling powerless. He had witnessed its manifestations often enough… and on top of that, was the strict mentality around which she had lived right up until she had come to Colorado and into his life. Boston was, after all, well known for its fierce puritanism, going as far as permeating through the coexisting, usually less scrupulous religious beliefs, seeping deeply into the Bostonians' everyday life and behavior.

"That's all right, Michaela… I know where ya come from, I know how things are in Boston, how straight-laced people are there, 'bout bein' prim and proper all the time, even between married folks… Now, tell me, that nightmare o' yours was 'bout you feelin' uncomfortable at lettin' all that go, right?"

"How… how do you – ?"

"Ain't hard to figure it out, knowin' ya…" He tenderly pressed his lips to her forehead. "I should've known better than to let things escalate so fast…"

"In case you forgot, you gave me the choice to stop things if I didn't feel up to it…"

"Yeah – well…"

"Really, Sully, I'm fine – more than fine. You make me feel so incredibly loved!"

"I'd better, 'cause that's how you make me feel, too," he returned lovingly. "Think you can go back to sleep, now?"

"Yes… Thank you, Sully – for understanding." She truly meant it. What had she ever done to deserve someone like him, so compassionate, so sensitive and respectful of her needs and feelings? She let out a deep sigh of relief, as her heart swelled with so much love that she was once again overcome by that strange need to melt and fuse with him, _within_ him, so that they would be one forever. It even overpowered the physiological instinct to mate in order to procreate. It felt so much more – almost the opposite, to be true. It was coming straight from an innermost part of her soul she never knew existed before the very first time they came together on the train.

"Anytime," he whispered against her temple, kissing it once more. She shifted a little, her head tilted back to offer her lips to his kiss, and he willingly obliged. He had intended it to be short and sweet, but the feel of her mouth opening under his, her tongue meeting and welcoming his, overwhelmed his senses. Yet, mindful of her vulnerability and insecurities, he steeled himself against the impending reawakening of his arousal, determined to give her more time to be completely at ease with every aspect of their life together. He feared that, if she perceived the physical reaction he was barely holding in check, she might feel some sort of obligation to submit to his desire, even if she convinced herself that she wanted to.

When she pulled away to catch her breath, he cradled her closer to his chest, his caresses onto her back gentle and soothing, and to which she responded with a feather-light stroking of his chest and shoulder, occasionally brushing his skin with a soft kiss. She finally drifted off, the soft sound of her deep breathing and the steady rise and fall of her chest under his palm lulling. Yet he remained alert, his hand keeping the rhythmic movement up and down the length of her back. Having her in his arms like this still felt like some extravagant dream, so new and exciting, no matter how many times he had envisioned what it would be like. The way her love and trust for him were stronger than all the doubts and fears she still harbored, filled him with the most uplifting feeling he had ever known. It went far beyond the primal male pride one would feel when succeeding in winning over the woman who filled their dreams or the possessive, jealous instinct when one thought their beloved the most coveted treasure in the world… Its depth and intensity scared him almost as much as it had when he had realized that no amount of denial, guilt or fear could have stopped his love for her from blossoming. He suddenly smirked in the darkness as the irony of the situation hit him: he, too, had been having control issues, though they were of a different nature.

Well, he certainly hoped that the day would come when they would no longer need to worry about keeping such a tight control over their feelings and actions anymore. He was confident that their commitment to each other was strong enough to endure any hardship life would throw their way, and that their love would be as eternal as a diamond and weather the passing of time without losing its force and brilliance. Of that, she was also convinced. He could still remember so clearly that moment when, raising sparkling eyes to him, she had stated, "When we're together, we can do so much," her faith in their bond as unwavering as his own…

* * *

_Sunday May, 22nd, 1870_

Sully was somewhat surprised to wake up a couple of hours later to the rosy light of dawn, when he had the impression that he had only blinked. He remembered Michaela having a nightmare, their late night conversation, the way they had cuddled up… in fact she was still enfolded in his arms, her cheek so soft on his chest and her hair like a silk wrap draped about her shoulders and spilling onto his arm. Her face was serene, with only a hint of a smile. The temptation to kiss her awake was hard to resist. Should he let her sleep? _Well, we could take a nap later durin' the day_ , he reasoned. Today, they could enjoy a lavish breakfast in bed, and maybe Michaela would want to go to church.

He also thought about the clothing problem. Maybe he could wire Colleen, or Rebecca, and have them ship a bag with a couple of her regular skirts and blouses, for if the rest of the dresses she had packed were indeed the same kind as the one she had worn the day before – well, his plans for any kind of excursions out of the city would simply be out of question. Not that he did not enjoy the sight of Michaela clad in her fanciest dresses, for it brought back some pleasant memories of the time they had spent in Boston, just the two of them, or during their stay in Washington – until it had turned sour, of course. Anyway, he would find her breathtakingly beautiful no matter what she was wearing. He silently chuckled as he pictured the cowboy attire when she had posed as "Cousin Bill" – the baggy clothes and large hat concealing her femininity, her face darkened with soot and that big wad of licorice stuck in her cheek, the shade of the large brim only bringing out even more the power of her entrancing eyes – and what about that _very revealing_ trapeze outfit! He had never gotten around to telling her that the reason he had failed to catch her at their first attempt at the flip was that he had momentarily lost his concentration, in spite of all his efforts to focus only on grabbing her hands securely – her _hands_ , not some other parts of her anatomy… He had let his eyes stray for but a second to her shapely legs clad in black tights, the brief but intense fantasy of running his hands up her calves and thighs to the curve of her hips flashing through his imagination…

A soft sigh escaping her mouth brought his attention back to the present. Michaela was still sleeping, only her smile was more pronounced, as if she was having a pleasant dream. Deciding that breakfast could wait a little longer, he remained still, content with watching every subtle change of expression displayed on her angelic face.

Half an hour later, as her features were still again, Sully leaned in closer, gently touched his lips to hers and relished in the thrill of having her respond immediately and without reserve.

Something tugged at Michaela's consciousness, something as warm and inviting as the cocoon she was enfolded in. _Mmmh_ …The shape, the warm softness and so distinctive taste of those lips, the heat of the breath filling her mouth just as the tongue slipped in to meet and dance with hers – _oh yes, how they dance_ – and the deliciously rough tickle of the morning stubble that grazed her chin and cheek… The touch – _that touch!_ – of the hand upon her flank, with its thumb ever so lightly brushing the underside of her breast! She would know them anywhere – she would know _him_ anywhere! Her heart pounded as her body instantly warmed and arched into his embrace in recognition. A long shudder coursed up and down her spine as his palm stroked its way up to her nape and she sighed repeatedly into his mouth in sheer delight.

Her fervent response to his kiss threatened to shatter Sully's good resolutions once again. He was pretty sure that she was still half asleep and merely reacting instinctively – well, he was certainly enjoying how natural her reaction felt! But the last thing he wanted was to jeopardize her trust by taking undue advantage of that part of herself she was still grappling with.

He forced himself to pull away, doing his best to do so as gently as he could – for both their sakes. That did little to block out the painful stab of frustration, unfortunately. For her, as well – she moaned in protest. Her eyes flew open, clouded with a mix of sleep and desire, and then they cleared a little as she awoke fully at last. He could not suppress his indulgent smile when he saw the so familiar blush appear on her face.

"Mornin'!"

"Good morning," she answered in a small, self-conscious voice, as her body kept humming with unfulfilled yearnings, and her memory filled with the events of the previous night. She was immensely grateful for Sully's amazing self-control, as she realized that he was again holding back out of respect for her, but at the same time… how could she let him know that it was all right to… to do _it_ – to be intimate again? How could she express that not only did she not mind at all, but that she needed _this_ , too, without coming across as wanton? She tried her best to convey the message through an intense, unwavering gaze, and a firmer hold onto his shoulders. And, as if it had a mind on its own, her knee rose up slightly, prompting her leg to brush against his subtly – yet unequivocally. Sully gulped as his body responded at once to the silent invitation, his arousal so potent that he barely managed to stop himself from joining them together right there and then.

"Are ya sure?" he breathed out unsteadily. "You really want to?"

The huskiness in his voice and the throb of his manhood against her thigh were enough to trigger the heavy pounding of blood coursing through her lower abdomen – that reaction her clinical self would have clearly identified as the female equivalent of the male's more visible one. But such musings on human physiology were the last things on her mind as she acquiesced mutely, her slight nod the last vestige of timidity before letting herself be consumed in the uncontrollable flames of their desire.

 _Ever so easy_ went out of the window as a chain reaction exploded between them. Each sensation and each ripple of pleasure fueled the next until it swelled into one powerful wave that crashed down on Sully before he even sensed it coming.

"Oh no," he groaned. But it was too late: there was nothing he could do to delay his climax. After a few helpless, haggard thrusts, he froze, every one of his muscles tightening forcefully to try and stop, but he felt the unmistakable spilling of his semen into her warmth. Yet, his mind, instead of getting numbed as it was bound to do, reeled with self-berating at his inability to stay in control and what he perceived as nothing but selfish satisfaction – if one could call what he had felt satisfaction! No, it was only a reflex… not to mention that the urgency of their lovemaking had very possibly disagreed with Michaela. So much for vowing to give her _time_! He pulled back to gauge her state of mind, dreading to read in her eyes disappointment and frustration, or worse, disgust or pain.

He saw nothing of the sort. Quite the opposite: there was a light dancing there, he noticed in surprise.

Michaela was just as astonished as he was as she tried to process what had just happened. It had been… _different_ , to say the least, but not in an unpleasant way. Fulfillment had been neither explosive nor earth-shattering – but she could feel its effects just the same, suffusing her with its all-encompassing warmth. Of course, her experience was still far too limited to apprehend to its fullest the wide range of emotions and sensations a woman could feel when it came to physical love. Right now, she was feeling lighter than a feather while rather vivified, as if she had just been treated to a very energetic massage. She bestowed an appreciative smile on him and, reassured, he returned it. Suddenly, the impetuosity with which they had just made love – and on her impulse, no less – struck her, causing her to giggle nervously while her cheeks turned from pink to a fiery red. Taken aback at first, wondering if he had misinterpreted her grin, he carefully studied her countenance. It was the same smile and the same glint in her eyes that he had seen during that sweet moment when she had discovered the carved headboard of their bed and they had kissed with such unexpected passion on the floor. He chuckled in turn, both from the memory and from her infectious laugh. Their chortles escalated, fed by the other's mirth, until they were laughing openly at how wild it had been. It was not quite yet the triumphant laughter of elated lovers when they followed their instincts without a care in the world... Still, it bore the secret foreknowledge that whether they would allow themselves to get carried away so spontaneously or purposefully build up their anticipation, their future encounters promised of renewed pleasurable discoveries.

A little while later, they were still in bed, but this time, they were dressed and satisfying another kind of hunger with a copious and tasty breakfast.

"I could get used to this soooooo easily…" Michaela sighed dreamily.

"Never had breakfast in bed before?"

"Only when I was ill, as a child – which can hardly compare," she retorted wryly.

"These two weeks are gonna pass awful quick, like ya said to the kids the other day. So I say we'd better make the most of it, don't ya think?"

"Mmh, you're right."

"'Sides, it's gonna do you a lotta good to get some peace an' quiet."

"The same can be said for you, Sully. After all that's been going on before our wedding…" She paused, sobered by the still painful memory of Washita.

"And now the train's gonna run every day through Colorado Springs, bringin' lotsa new folks out there, more patients for ya…"

She sensed what he would not say: more patients to care for would mean less time to spend with him. But now, it was different. Now she was no longer afraid to spend time with him _alone_. Judging by the way she felt now about their intimate relations, she would more likely long to be alone with him – quite often. Her eyes and voice earnest, she vowed to him:

"We'll make time, Sully. _I_ will make time for you, I promise."

"I'll hold you to that," he grinned. He reached for her waist, pulling her into his arms, and whispered in her ear, "I'll hold you close." They shared a laugh at the double entendre, before leaning in for a long, leisurely kiss. Time got away from them again as they lost themselves in the embrace. The feel of each other quickly rekindled the sparks of their morning loving. There was nothing to stop them from yielding to their seemingly insatiable hunger, and yet they pulled back at the same time, chuckling breathlessly. _Plenty of time for that later,_ they thought simultaneously, each feeling as if they heard the other's voice echoing the phrase.

As she took a few cleansing breaths while she went to the wardrobe to fetch her wrap, Michaela's mind flew back to the upsetting dream she had had a mere few hours before. She remembered more the uneasiness she had experienced when she had been startled awake than the nightmare itself, and most of all she recalled how her qualms had dissolved, washed away by his devotion to her. The love they shared was a blessing, and whatever way they chose to express it was nothing to feel ashamed of. Boston was her birthplace, where she had grown up and become a woman – but looking back now, it seemed that coming to Colorado, meeting Sully and falling in love with him was what had marked her true passage into adulthood, much more than obtaining her degree and practicing medicine ever did. Now… _where you live is in here_ , he had told her, pointing to his heart – where _he_ lived was in her heart, her soul and her flesh. If home was indeed where the heart is, then…

She swiveled on her feet toward the one who would be her home all of her days.


	8. An Afternoon to Remember

As he had expected, Michaela had wanted to go to church, so he accompanied her to the closest one, a few blocks from their hotel. Afterwards, he wouldn't remember a single word Reverend Carlyle had said. For an agonizingly long hour, all he could do was to shut everything out, including his own train of thoughts. She was sitting so close, and even though they weren't touching at all, her warm presence was overwhelming. Her scent! _Oh that scent of her_! Not just her perfume, but her womanly scent – her secret one, the one only he could identify through the many layers of clothing. Maybe he wasn't actually breathing it in, maybe its vestiges were merely lingering in his memory. Either way, it was maddening to have her body only inches from his and not be able to reach out to hold her tight, not to take her small hand in his and caress it. Good thing she couldn't read his thoughts, for she would have been appalled that he could think of her in such an intimate way – in church of all places! He was a little self-conscious himself about those powerful, almost uncontrollable urges he kept having to touch, kiss, be so close to her every second of every minute of every hour he would spend in her presence. Was she that irresistible, or was he no better than those men who would consider women as mere objects that had been created only to satisfy their needs? No, no way, he would never, ever view Michaela, his beloved wife, his Heartsong, like that. Never would he have grabbed what wasn't rightfully his. Though they were now married, and that either socially or legally, it was regarded as acceptable – even expected in some circles, he thought with a shudder – for husbands to force themselves upon their spouses, he just couldn't contemplate being intimate with his wife without her unequivocal consent. Yet, having to hold still like this reminded him of those early, awkward days of their courtship, when he'd had to remain "hands off" most of the time…

Little did he know that Michaela was not paying as much attention to the sermon as he thought she was. Since he was avoiding looking at her, he missed her reddening cheeks and flustered expression, when she realized that, as hard as she tried to concentrate on what the Reverend was lecturing them about, her focus kept straying to another set of features and another voice. He was right there, temptingly close to her, within immediate reach. She could have sat a little closer… Maybe she could slide _closer_ , inch by inch – _no one would notice, or would they?_ Or she could slip her hand into the crook of his elbow, couldn't she? _No one would have reason to frown upon that, right?_ It wouldn't be like she was sitting on his lap, snuggling up and kissing him – though her body urged her to do so, much to her consternation. _Control yourself, Michaela, for goodness' sake!_ At least she managed to send a prayer heavenward, asking the Lord for forgiveness, hoping He would only smile upon her with indulgence, considering that they were newlyweds…

* * *

For lunch, he treated her to a delicious meal at the small café where they had already eaten the couple of times they'd been to Denver together during their engagement. The food and the hospitality could measure up with Grace's, making them feel right at home. Then they went for a leisurely walk along the banks of Cherry Creek, chatting about the children, wondering how everybody was doing in Colorado Springs and what her mother and sisters had planned to keep Colleen and Brian – and themselves – busy. The conversation reminded Sully of the telegram he wanted to send about the clothes. He turned to Michaela:

"D'ya think we could stop by the telegraph office? We could wire the kids to let them know we're all right, and ask them how are things at home."

"Oh, Sully, I was supposed to wire Mother as soon as we arrived in Denver!" she gasped, shocked at how distracted she had let herself be, so absorbed she had been with her new husband. She was almost surprised that no reproving telegram had come yet from her mother. But to give Elizabeth credit, she had surprisingly mellowed in time for her youngest daughter's wedding, even giving in to Michaela's plea to give her away. What had led her to such a change of heart? Michaela was left to wonder – had Sully said something to his mother-in-law? She wouldn't put it past him.

On their way to the telegraph office, Sully told her of his plans to go out riding and the need to have more practical clothes for her. Too relaxed and blissfully happy to even be annoyed, Michaela laughed at herself and readily admitted that she hadn't actually cared that much about the packing process and had let her mother and sisters talk her into taking her fanciest dresses rather than the ones she would have preferred to be comfortable. After all, she had enough of them to fit into every situation, didn't she? She knew exactly what to ask for to Colleen…

Once the telegrams were sent, they resumed their stroll.

"What d'ya wanna do this afternoon?" Sully asked. They hadn't made definite plans as to what to do or see during their stay, as they had not expected Elizabeth to extend their reservation from five to fifteen days as a wedding gift to them both, and they had assumed than they would have had to make the most of their privacy by staying in their room as much as possible.

Michaela remained silent for a moment, pondering their options. What did she want to do, indeed? The answer was as crystal clear as the vast expanse of blue sky above them.

"I don't really care, as long as I'm with you."

Sully chuckled briefly at her candid answer, just as instantly sobered and deeply moved by how trusting and innocent her words sounded to his ears. This vulnerable, ingenuous side of her was even more endearing now, in sharp yet well-balanced contrast of the more seductive and sensual part of her nature that was blossoming right before his eyes.

"I got an idea, but I need to get a few things from our room first. Ya mind?"

"What are you up to?"

"You'll see…" he whispered noncommittally.

* * *

An hour or so later, they were settled as comfortably as possible under the shade of a large linden tree in early bloom, its honey-like smell warmed by the afternoon sun and wafted around by a gentle breeze.

Sully had changed into one of his loose shirts and his customary buckskins, to the priceless astonishment of one of the porters when he had asked the young uniformed man if the hotel could provide them with a quilt or blanket that could be spread on the grass… he was presently reclining on a thin, plain coverlet, his head cushioned on his wife's lap, leafing through a well-worn book that had belonged to her father, while Michaela, hampered by her corset and bustle, could only demurely kneel on the blanket, waiting patiently while he scanned through the dog-eared pages, looking for something she might enjoy. At first he had wavered for a few seconds between Walt Whitman and the couple of other books of poetry he had brought along, but then had decided to keep _Leaves of Grass_ for a little later, when the full power of its verse would reach into their souls and they could abandon themselves to the magic of the stirring words. He was looking forward to the experience, but it would have to hold for at least a few more hours.

Finally, he found something well suited for the occasion and started reading aloud:

_Let me not to the marriage of true minds  
Admit impediments. Love is not love  
Which alters when it alteration finds,  
Or bends with the remover to remove:  
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark  
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;  
It is the star to every wandering bark,  
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.  
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks  
Within his bending sickle's compass come:  
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,  
But bears it out even to the edge of doom._

_If this be error and upon me proved,  
I never writ, nor no man ever loved. **[1]**_

He looked up from the book to gauge her reaction to his reading. Michaela had been absent-mindedly fingering his hair, her eyes dreamy and a vague smile playing at the corner of her mouth. Actually she had been more mesmerized by the sound of his voice than from the meaning of the verse itself, for she already knew the poem, so when he grew silent, she focused again on his face. Her smile widened as she gazed down to see his eyes fixed upon her. Under the green canopy of the tree, with rays of sunlight flowing haphazardly through the foliage following the whims of the wind, his irises had turned an intense shade of turquoise, the kind of which she imagined could have belonged to those faraway seas bathing the tropical islands described in some adventure novels, their blue so vibrant under cloudless, infinite skies. And then, the connection between the sonnet and their relationship registered to her consciousness.

"It was beautiful, Sully," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion and eyes shimmering with a hint of tears.

"That's what I think of our love – of our marriage, Michaela."

That did it. A lone tear escaped the corner of her eye before she could stop it. She raised her hand to brush it away, but Sully moved even faster and caught it first. She gave him a tremulous smile.

"We've made it, Sully. We set off without a map, but I feel like we've reached that place where my heart wanted us to be."

Sully didn't need her to elaborate further as her words instantly summoned the memory of the quite rocky beginning of their courtship and that highly symbolic moment when he had brought her to his private spot on the side of the mountain. He had known even then – their destinies, as well as their hearts, were inextricably interwoven.

She bent forward, intending to kiss him, but the rigid whalebones of her corset held her upright. She winced slightly, her hand going to her pinched side.

"You were right," she breathed very softly, as if afraid someone else might hear her. "This corset _is_ really a chastity belt – it won't even let me kiss you." Her cheeks colored a little.

He sat up and swiveled around so that his face was mere inches from hers, his answering smile hovering between mischief and indulgence.

"Won't be much longer before we get you out of that rig for good, and you'll get to kiss me all you want…" He gave her lips a soft, teasing peck. "As for havin' made it… I got a feelin' that the journey ain't over yet. I'd say we're reached an important milestone, and we can stop for a little while, before settin' out again for the next stretch…"

She understood his metaphor at once: their life together was to be an odyssey interspersed with stopovers – the birth of the children they might have together, the Cooper children starting out on their own, joyous events – moments of grief, too, when they would have to lean on each other… _to have and to hold… for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, as long as you both shall live._ They would grow old together and, God willing, die in each other's arms.

Simultaneously they leant toward each other and their lips met in a prolonged, tender kiss that sealed their hearts' promise as deeply and earnestly as it had when they had pronounced their vows. The kiss gradually grew more intense and intimate as they poured their entire hearts into it, sending their souls soaring as high as any lovemaking ever could. Everything they were to each other was conveyed through their joined lips…

It was debatable how long it would have taken for them to break off the kiss if not for a very loud clearing of throat coming from a passing-by groundskeeper. They pulled apart, a bit flustered, as the man eyed them sternly for a while before walking away, looking over his shoulder a couple of times as if making sure the couple wouldn't resume such an improper behavior in _his_ park. Once he was finally out of sight, Michaela and Sully chuckled nervously, their forehead pressed together. Words were once again unnecessary: their hearts were singing in complete harmony.

For another hour or so, Sully went back to reading poetry to her, his head once again nestled on her lap, and her fingers wound into his hair, occasionally brushing his cheek or his brow lovingly. He eventually stopped and rose to his feet when he felt her shift uncomfortably. He then pulled her up and into his arms. With nobody in sight, he just couldn't resist the temptation of once again cupping her adorable face to answer the irresistible call of those lips of hers. No woman could possibly have softer, sweeter lips than Michaela's – nor so incredibly responsive. That was how he had instinctively known, from the first time their lips had touched on her birthday, then when they had begun courting, in spite of her reserve and inexperience, that there was a place deep inside her that only he could hope to reach and fully unlock one day. Now that she had let him in so completely, he also knew why he had felt so compelled to get to that place: it was home. _She_ was home.

Michaela couldn't refrain from following her heart's desire either, as her emotions from the past two days seemed to be converging to that very moment, making her forget that they were quite out in the open and that the groundskeeper could very possibly swoop down on them again. When Sully slowly stepped back to lean against the tree trunk, she followed him, actually pushed him further, as again and again, they tried to assuage their thirst for those endless, intensely loving, extremely tender kisses.

"Enough of this, you two!" boomed a deep, indignant voice. It was the keeper again, coming back from his rounds. Rather sheepishly, the startled couple muttered an excuse. Sully gathered their belongings and, with Michaela's hand firmly held in his, quickly left their beautiful, quiet spot, now that their privacy had been disturbed. Needless to say that they were both more than looking forward to being able to get out of town, provided that Colleen had been able to pack what her mother had asked for and put the package in the earliest train bound to Denver. Neither of them wanted to face that groundskeeper again, if they could help it.

"You all right, 'Chaela?" Sully asked on their way back to their hotel, squeezing her hand consolingly. Michaela's instinct told her that he was probably worried that she might relapse into Boston-like bashfulness after being caught red-handed, or more exactly, red-faced. But to her own surprise, she didn't feel as embarrassed as she might have expected herself to be. They had not behaved improperly – they were only kissing, after all! And they had chosen a rather secluded spot away from the ponds and the play areas for the children, where most people seemed to gather.

"I'm fine, Sully," she told him, her smile genuine. "It's not like we've been doing… well, you know," she added with a wry little raise of her eyebrows.

"You're right."

It was a pleasant surprise indeed to have her so relaxed, even amused, after an incident like this, and yet, Sully remembered that she had recovered just as quickly when Matthew had stumbled upon them sharing a rather intimate moment. Back then, she hadn't even had her blouse on, and the straps of her camisole had hung quite low, showing more skin than anyone would have bargained for.

They giggled and bantered about it until they were back at their hotel. As they crossed the lobby, they spotted a small crew of porters carrying instrument cases toward the main dining room.

"Looks like there's gonna be a string quartet playin' tonight at dinner," Sully presumed, turning to his wife just in time to see the slightly wishful expression that flashed through her eyes. He grinned, and led her up the stairs to their suite, where he started changing back into his tuxedos without as much as a word to her. Her sparkling eyes rewarded him as she realized his intent, and she rushed into his arms, hugging him tightly. Her childlike excitement was contagious, and suddenly, he found that he didn't mind the suit so much anymore, if it meant seeing her so gleeful at the mere idea of a fancy dinner and dance with him.

Being reminded of their first outings in Boston had prompted Michaela to choose the black and silver dress she had worn that very first, delightfully exciting, evening together. When they returned down to the lobby to be escorted to the main dining room, many heads turned to watch the handsome couple walk by, Michaela such a picture of absolute radiance that she simply outshone every other women in the room. Sully felt about ready to burst with pride as he saw the numerous looks of admiration and envy they, _she_ attracted all through dinner.

As they were waiting for the main course after particularly delicious hors d'oeuvres, the string quartet began playing a tune that seemed oddly familiar to Sully, but he couldn't place it at once. He cast a look at Michaela, whose eyes brightened in recognition. A strong sense of déjà-vu hit him, and suddenly it came to him. What were the odds? It was the same piece they had danced to, the night he had taken her to the overly expensive restaurant in Boston, when she had worn the very same ball gown. Only tonight, the quartet seemed to play a little faster, and with a more upbeat lilt than what the Bostonian quartet had managed to produce. Sully mused briefly that the difference of rhythm between those two times could very well match the dramatic change in their relationship, tentative and tense at first, now full of optimism and enthusiasm.

Resolutely, he stood up and circled the table, offering his hand to her.

"Shall we?" he asked, so low that she guessed his invitation more than she actually heard it. Soon they were waltzing giddily amidst a rather sparse crowd of hotel guests, again attracting stares. The women were whispering comments behind their fans to anyone who would listen, or reprimanding their male companions for admiring a little too openly the very beautiful woman in silver satin and black lace, and above anything else were seething with envy, for her gorgeous-looking, long-haired, tan-skinned partner seemed to have eyes for her only. Everyone present could see the so obvious adoration that flowed between the dancing couple, all smiles and oblivious to anything around them.

When the quartet concluded _Roses from the South_ , Michaela and Sully applauded the nice performance along with the other dancers then returned to their table where they were presented with the rest of the menu. It was a bit too fancy for Sully's tastes, not that he cared that much. It was like wearing the suit. All that mattered to him was to see his wife enjoying herself on their honeymoon. Eating food he wasn't used to and wearing uncomfortable clothes once in a while was a small price to pay to please her. He'd even go back to the opera without a second thought…

After dinner, they danced again. Another waltz was being played, a slow one. It started out innocently enough, but before they knew it, their thoughts were simultaneously directed to another very special dance they had shared the night before, the memory brought back by the gentle, steady swaying of their bodies to a slow "one-two-three" rhythm. A wave of heat instantly flared between them, and they knew the time had come for them to retreat into their private haven. They left the ballroom as discreetly as they could, but a sudden, strong urgency was driving them on. As soon as their door was securely closed, they leant against it to share a long, hungry kiss, at last able to give free rein to the passion that had been simmering between them all day. It wasn't long before it ignited them to further fulfillment, yet Sully found it in himself to stop before he lost all control. Though their lovemaking this very morning had not been exactly unpleasant, his inability to hold out then still rankled. Tonight, and every time they would be together, he wanted their loving to be as gratifying as it had been the night before, if not better. They still had a lot to learn about each other, and two weeks was indeed a short time span for such teachings – time he felt they couldn't afford to waste on careless, instinct-driven encounters. So he pulled away.

A bit disoriented at first, Michaela looked up into his eyes. He understood her puzzlement.

"Ever so easy, remember?" he breathed. She answered with a smile and a nod, though she wondered, given how aroused the two of them already were, how would they ever manage to take things slowly. Then an idea came to her on how to give them time to calm down a little. A few remaining insecurities caused her mind to instantly conjure up a dozen of things going wrong with her plan, but she determinedly shove them aside.

"Could you help me with the back of my dress, please? Then I'll be back in a few minutes."

Sully's face lit up, and he flashed a mischievous grin at her.

"What are you up to?"

Just as mischievously, she answered: "You'll see."

* * *

[1] Shakespeare, _Sonnet 116_


	9. Some Surprise

Once the hooks of her dress were undone and the laces of the corset loosened enough, she turned around once more to face him, her face set in what she hoped to be a stern expression, though she knew that the grin that was tugging the corner of her lips upward and the likely twinkle in her eyes were very possibly giving her away.

"Now I want you to close your eyes… And don't you peek!" she told him, assuming her bossiest tone.

Seeing right through her act, Sully let out a small snort of laughter, as amused as he was intrigued… and excited. But he complied without protest, and dropped onto the settee to wait, his ears tuned to catch any sound she could be making that would indicate what she was doing. She had forbidden him to look, but not to listen! He heard the soft rustling of the hem of her dress and voluminous petticoats on the thick carpet, the door of the wardrobe being opened, her rummaging into it and extracting something… his ears perked up at the very soft sound, trying to identify what it could be, but before he could figure anything out, Michaela had disappeared into the bathroom.

* * *

As soon as she closed the bathroom door behind her, Michaela hurriedly wiggled out of her dress and underclothes and slipped into the pretty nightgown she had worn on her first night as a wife. She removed her earrings, then took down the many pins that held her elaborate hairstyle in place, and brushed her long locks until there were no trace of the ringlets left. She quickly freshened up her face and when she was satisfied with her reflection in the mirror, she reached for the garment she had pulled out of the wardrobe minutes before, holding it up gingerly before her as if trying to figure out how someone like her could ever get away with wearing something like this. The negligee looked even more daring – and intimidating – now than when she had first beheld it at her bridal shower. She still couldn't believe her mother would buy her something like that, from Paris, no less! Even more cautiously, she put it on, then tied the bows at the front. She looked at herself in the mirror again and frowned: the result wasn't quite what she had expected, with the nightgown underneath showing through and making the gossamer thin satin crease and stretch ungracefully… _No, I can't wear this with nothing under!_ In the main room, Sully was waiting for her, which meant that she had to make a decision fast before he got impatient. She could simply forget about that fancy peignoir and just… _Well, what about the surprise he's expecting – the surprise you promised?_ What could she do? What should she do? Again she stared at her reflection, the answer so obvious…

A minute or so later, she tentatively stepped back into the main room. Sully had cast off his jacket, waistcoat and tie and was barefoot. He had built up the fire to fend off the chill of the night, and the atmosphere was pleasantly warm. She froze self-consciously at the threshold, torn between her genuine desire to surprise and please her husband as a rightful reward for his care, his patience and how wonderfully cherished and needed he was making her feel, and how still foreign it felt to muster any kind of boldness when it came to _this_. A healthy dose of audaciousness was what had enabled her to stand her ground against all the scorn and dismissiveness in a male-dominated profession – and world, for that matter. Coupled with her stubbornness and strong will, sustained and encouraged by her father, those personality traits had been the shortcomings which had made her stand out from the crowd of eligible young women all her life and feel left out, like something was terribly wrong with her, like she wasn't a _real_ woman. That is, until she met Sully. He might have been annoyed with her more times than she could count, but he had always come back to her no matter what, and he had never tried to make her into something or someone she wasn't. The mere fact that he had never made the slightest attempt to change her, even granting her the right to keep her maiden name though it had hurt him, was ample proof that these rather unfeminine traits of hers weren't repellent to him. If anything, Sully had somehow managed to present her with that part of herself that had seemed to be missing, or at least had been buried deep down – the very core of her femininity – brought forth by the single force of his love for her. She would have never thought that one day she would feel so complete and so confident about being a woman. Sully had done that in such an empowering way, like she could do anything, everything, things she would have never imagined she could do, as long as he was by her side… including overcoming her awkwardness regarding sexual matters. She could do this – she would do this. _For him_. Slowly, stealthily, she approached him.

Sully had done his best to occupy his mind while he was waiting, though, as hard as he had tried, he hadn't been able to keep from speculating about what his wife was up to. It was so intriguing: he would have never expected her to take any kind of initiative so soon. Maybe he was putting too much into the way she had teased him. Maybe she hadn't actually meant to tease him at all. For all he knew, she simply might have gone to the bathroom to change into her nightgown… Never mind, he had booked Walt Whitman for tonight…

So absorbed he was in his musings that he didn't registered the sound of the door opening behind him. What stirred him from his daydreaming was the sudden awareness that she was back in the room, watching him intently. He could actually _feel_ her stare at the back of his head, like a tiny, white-hot point. The electricity in the room heightened to such a level that it seemed to be sparking off the walls, and making the fire in the hearth crackle louder and burn brighter. _Now, that's what I call sparkin'_ , he thought fleetingly, smiling to himself, before rising to his feet as he sensed her coming closer. The sight that greeted him abruptly knocked all the breath out of him, and he had to steady himself by holding onto the back of the sofa. She stood in front of him, an ethereal, iridescent vision bathed in firelight. The opulent garment she was wearing hugged her body in such a close fit that it seemed to have been sewn right onto her skin. The rich ruffles of satin and billows of lace along the plunging neckline accentuated the fullness of her breasts, while the rosy, opalescent fabric graced the curve of her slender waist and the rounded slopes of her hips. As she took another step toward him, the lower edges of the peignoir parted slightly, and he gulped painfully when the gap revealed briefly a glimpse of her bare legs.

As Michaela picked up on her husband's reaction, she worried for a moment that his stunned silence meant that he didn't like how she looked, and that the whole idea was nothing but a huge mistake. When his eyes met hers, their mesmeric blue standing out in his shadowed face, she only saw a desire so raw, so untamed, that her dismay, instead of being quelled, only grew – only this time, she feared her attire was too provocative. She wanted to retreat back into the washroom, yet she found herself once again enraptured under his unwavering gaze. Even though they were standing a couple of yards apart, she could feel the wafts of heat radiating from his body penetrating through the material of the negligee, suffusing her own skin in an upsweeping and overpowering stroke that prompted a soft moan to escape her lips. _How could it be that intense already? And so quickly? Moreover without any direct contact?_

Her skin now afire with the need for his touch, she waited for him to make the next move. However, when he didn't, she detected an expectation in his stillness. _Well_ … She had come to the bridge – she had to cross it, there was no turning back now. Trembling with a mixture of nerves and desire, she walked the short distance between them.

As soon as she was within his reach, he felt the sharp ache to crush her against his chest running up his arms. His heart pounded so hard, his breath was so shallow that dizziness buzzed in his ears and almost obliterated his wish to have her take the lead this time round. He suddenly pictured himself carrying her to the rug in front of the fire, and making love to her right there, right away, her delicate wrists fettered in an iron grip as he took his sweet revenge for the way she had provoked him. Fortunately, this unwitting fantasy dissolved as quickly as it had appeared, his love and respect for her so much stronger than the most powerful lust. Instead, his hand slowly rose to her shoulder, his fingers brushing her arm ever so softly through the lace of the sleeve.

That light caress was all it took for her knees to buckle. He caught her before she fell, and effortlessly swept her off her feet. How she loved feeling so light in his arms, how it made her feel like she was floating on a cloud! His warm, quiet strength, so comforting and reassuring… she wanted to absorb it somehow, so she nestled as close as she could into him, burying her face in the crook of his neck, her lips inexorably drawn to the spot where his blood was pulsating impatiently. His scent, so masculine and intoxicating, filled her nostrils, further fuelling her hunger for him. She wanted, needed him to take her to the bed, to slip beneath the covers with her, to have him touch, caress and kiss her, and to be able to do the same to him. The tell-tale pounding longing within her womb was already making itself known, relentlessly begging for fulfillment. She needed him to fill her up with his warmth, with his strength, she needed him inside her. _Now!_

He did carry her to the bed, and gently put her down back on her feet. Then he stood still again, the evidence of what he wanted her to do to him so openly expressed in his darkened eyes and set jaw. Feeling that she might need just a little push in the right direction, he leant forward, brushing his lips close to her ear.

"Trust yourself," he whispered in an echo of the moment he had asked her to trust him. She knew that he implicitly meant "Trust yourself the way I trust you." He trusted her ability to figure out how to love and pleasure him all on her own. He trusted her to find out what would feel just right to herself and to the two of them. In his unique way, he was validating her decision to wear the peignoir tonight. Such freedom seemed quite daunting at that moment yet, by handing her that kind of power, he was offering her an opportunity to get back some control in the process – she might as well put it to good use.

Her grip onto his shirt collar tightened and she pulled him to her for a kiss that instantly grew deep and passionate and reinstated the urgency that had driven them to curtail their outing. So absorbed was she in the all-consuming kiss that her heart and her instinct had no trouble overruling her mind, and without thinking, she unbuttoned and discarded his shirt, her fingers now back to their customary deftness and efficiency, only pausing for a split second before she decisively unbuckled his belt.

Sully would later wonder how he ever managed to keep enough wit about him to hold out for so long, but when he sensed how fast things were escalating, he deliberately pulled back a little and forced himself to slow down the movements of his lips and tongue against hers. She took the hint, however his relief was short-lived, for her caresses on his upper body became torturously light as she explored her way up, down and around his broad, warm chest, occasionally slipping teasing fingers under the loosened waistband of his trousers. Likewise, what her kiss lost in temerity, it gained in voluptuousness, so much that he actually shied away from reaching under her fabulous dressing gown to touch her skin. Never had his desire for her reached such an excruciating point. He would not, _could not_ take this any longer.

"'Chaela, please," he implored against her lips as they continued their passionate assault.

Stirred beyond measure by the plea in his voice, she barely managed to utter: "Tell me…," meaning _what to do_ but she found herself unable to finish her sentence, as she was too far gone already. But it didn't matter, for Sully answered her anyway, seizing her hands to bring them to the fastenings of his tuxedo trousers. With an assertiveness that surprised and aroused them both, she undid the buttons, untied the drawstrings of the cotton breeches underneath, and tugged both garments down to pool at his feet. The sight of his magnificent body, gleaming like a finely wrought bronze statue as the flickering light from the fire danced on his tanned skin, and his scent, so peculiar and overwhelming when he was aroused, made her so dizzy that she half-sat, half-dropped at the edge of the mattress.

"Touch me."

It came out very softly – neither peremptory, nor begging. She raised her eyes to his face. Had she heard him right? His large hand came up to cup her cheek, before burying itself in her hair, his fingertips gently raking the scalp behind her ear.

Her heart skipped a beat, and suddenly she felt shy and awkward again, as an unexpected uneasiness rose within her, constricting her throat. She had treated enough assaulted women and prostitutes to be well aware that some men derived pleasure from forcing their member into their victims' mouth. And now, she found herself facing her husband's erect manhood, as he stood there, waiting for her next move. Was he expecting her to do this kind of thing? No, Sully would never force her to do anything that would make her uncomfortable. His loving, encouraging hand in her hair wasn't applying any unwelcome pressure on her nape, or anything of the sort. _Do what feels right for you…_ What felt right, indeed? Still a little nervous from the disturbing thought that had crossed her mind, she raised trembling hands to his waist, closing her eyes briefly to collect herself before resuming her caresses upon his body. _Touch me_ , he had said. He hadn't asked for anything specific, just for her to touch him. And she was the one who had asked for directions. _Touch him_. That was all.

The mere feel of the heated skin of his lower body under her fingertips sent rather fierce tingles all through her body, instantly rekindling her high state of arousal. She encircled his loins with her arms to pull him closer, and drew in a shaky breath as the tip of his manhood brushed against her midriff, just a hairsbreadth from her breasts. Still she forged ahead, relying on her hands to survey and map out every swell, dip and sinew of his body, committing them to her memory. Finally, she reached the one part of him she could no longer ignore. If her medical persona had always viewed it as an instrument whose functions were simply to urinate or procreate, now, as a still new bride, she was awestruck to think of it as something related to – _responsible for_ – the pleasure she felt when they were one body. Timidly, she ran an experimenting finger down it, the skin there warm and surprisingly soft and delicate, like a flower petal. She jumped slightly as it answered to her touch with a tiny jerk, but pursued her endeavor, her touch cautious and reverent, encouraged by Sully's soft growls of pleasure.

Sully knew he would not be able to hold out much longer, no matter what she would do or not do from that moment on - he would have to reach the natural outcome of this encounter, one way or the other. The hand that had been gently, sensuously running through her silken hair dropped to his side, as tightly clenched as its twin, as he fought desperately the imperious urge to seek relief, with the desired destination unbearably close, a mere few inches below.

As she noticed the sudden hardening of his entire body, she feared she had done something unpleasant or worse, hurt him. She glanced upward, seeking his eyes once again. In them, she saw, without any doubt, what her caresses, inexperienced as they were, had done to him. It was so _thrilling_. _Amazing_. _Could she really have such power over him, just like that?_

Tenderly, she took his hand, unknotting the fist so she could intertwine her fingers with his, and tugged him along with her as she scooted backward on the bed, until they were reclining on their side, face to face. And again, she initiated a passion-filled kiss, never hungrier for his lips than right at this moment. She clasped him fiercely to her, her body straining to meet his, oblivious of the flimsy barrier of satin that still remained between them.

"Sully," she let out in a guttural whisper that did not quite sound like her usual voice.

"Yes… Tell me… Tell me, 'Chaela," he besought her.

"Touch me," she whimpered.

And he did. All too aware that if he were to join them together right away he would lose it just as soon, he summoned the last shreds of self-control he had left to ensure that she was coming with him for the trip to their little private heaven. So, as slowly as he could, he untied one by one the bows that held the negligee closed, edging his fingers further inside as each bow came undone, until he could finally pull the ruffled fronts apart to unveil her body. _Enough teasin', now_ , he thought as he nudged her onto her back and proceeded to bring her to the ultimate delights with efficient, purposeful caresses of his fingers onto her exposed flesh. He smiled proudly to himself as he discovered on his way interesting spots and combinations that made her writhe and tremble and moan louder.

Michaela nearly fainted with the onrush of sensations he was provoking. His attentiveness, the eager yet patient way with which he was seeking out and stimulating her most sensitive places, his eyes never leaving hers as he observed in them her response to his ministrations left her completely awed and heightened her pleasure, pushing it up to a degree that drove her positively mindless. Without warning, everything around her dissolved in that unearthly blinding, rippling light that came from deep within, expanding to every cell in her body until she was fleetingly brought back to reality by the feel of him entering her, his movements in synchronization with the pulsating feeling that kept rushing through her body. She did not even realize how loudly she was voicing her enjoyment, as wave after wave of overpowering gratification engulfed her. She was only conscious of the feel of his flesh on hers, within hers, becoming hers and vibrating with hers.

As he had predicted, he found his release quickly, yet again, it struck him so forcefully that he almost felt his heart stop altogether, while a blinding bolt of light set his mind ablaze before invading his entire body like a prairie fire on a dry, hot, windy day. Never in his entire life had he gone through such a powerful experience, never had he reached this high level of alternate consciousness, not even during his encounters with the Spirits when he had embarked on vision quests while he was living with the Cheyenne. He gazed down at the woman who brought him so much more than love and physical pleasure, now more certain than ever that she was his Heartsong. Her eyes slowly regained their focus and a slow, tired, but appreciative smiled stretched her lips. When he gently withdrew and rolled to his side next to her, worried that his weight might be too much for her, she followed his movement and landed on her side as well. For the longest time, they lay there, silent, neither one able to take their eyes off the other's, both content to consciously bask in the afterglow of the extraordinary experience they had just shared.

Finally, Sully broke the comfortable silence as his curiosity emerged from the satisfied torpor that was suffusing his whole being.

"You look stunnin' in this. I can't tell you how much I appreciate you wearin' it tonight."

"Well, _I_ can," she replied with uncharacteristic impishness. Not that he complained, for it clearly meant that she was leaving behind her Bostonian self and allowing a more light-hearted, not so perpetually serious Michaela to come forward, which with her wit and charm certainly made a potentially redoubtable combination - but at least he was the happy addressee.

"Where did you get it? They got things like this in them catalogues at Loren's?"

Michaela smothered a giggle behind her hand like a schoolgirl.

"No…"

"Don't tell me… Present from your sisters?"

She shook her head again, eyes alight with amusement at the little charade.

"You bought it in Boston?"

Sensing that he would never guess, she blurted it out between two chuckles.

"It _is_ a wedding present… from Mother."

Utterly astounded by this bit of news as Elizabeth was definitely the last person he had expected to present her daughter with enticing lingerie, given her own opinions regarding the dreaded wifely duty, Sully could not find his voice for a moment. Then he burst into laughter.

"It's hard to imagine… Either your ma had no idea how fantastic you'd look in this, or she'd had ulterior motives when she gave it to ya…"

At this, she frowned.

"What do you mean by 'ulterior motives'?"

Sully only laughed harder.

"Maybe – maybe she thought I'd make such a fool o'myself that you'd come to your senses and realize how wrong I am for you…"

"Not a chance," she asserted.

He gave her an appreciative smile, and reached out to run a loving thumb across her cheek. 

"Or maybe she hoped you'd give me a heart attack…"

Realizing that he was teasing her, she countered him playfully.

"I seriously doubt it. My mother wouldn't risk your health, knowing you'd have your own personal physician so close at hand. She's more cunning than that."

"Cunnin', huh? Think she has somethin' else up her sleeve to try and tear us apart?"

Turning earnest again, she slithered closer until they were touching from shoulder to toe.

"If she did, that wouldn't make any difference to me. As long as you love me as much as I love you, no one, nothing will ever separate us."

"God knows how I love you."

"As I do."

They sealed their devoted declarations with such a long, ardent kiss that, when they pulled back, each saw in the other's eyes the need for an even deeper affirmation of their love. There was no need for words, no need to ask for permission or directions. They just made love slowly, long and deep into the night, until, finally exhausted, they wrapped themselves in the bedclothes, falling asleep so close to each other than one could have thought that they were still physically linked even in slumber.


	10. My Family, My Best friend

_Monday May, 23rd, 1870_

She couldn't really pinpoint what had roused her, but when Michaela finally came out of the deepest sleep she had ever known, like she had sunk into the deepest, darkest ocean, put under by sated exhaustion, her consciousness was overwhelmed with a wealth of sensations: the taut, silken smoothness of the skin of his back under her fingers, the gentle graze of his chest hair on her breasts, the heated, musky scent of him… On any other man, the smell of sweat could get easily unpleasant when it wasn't sickening altogether, but on Sully? To her, it spoke of health and vigor – and of his proposal in the sweat lodge… Everything that was _him_ surrounded her, cradled her, as if he had been the very essence of her dreams.

A tiny grin appeared on her face as she realized the lateness of the hour. Being a doctor, and a mother to Brian who had so often sought comfort and reassurance for months after Charlotte's devastating passing, Michaela had long become accustomed to light, oft-interrupted sleep. She had never been one to oversleep. Yet, for the third day in a row, she had woken up to the warmth of a late morning sun… and to the warmth of _him_. She was presently nestled up to his chest and their legs were still entangled from their late night loving. She felt herself warming further with the hazy, dream-like memory, and a delicious shiver ran down her spine as his hand started to move sensuously at the small of her back. His lingering kiss upon her shoulder confirmed that he was wakening as well, and that he knew she was awake, too.

"Mornin'"

She lifted her flushed face from where it had rested all night in the niche of his neck to peer up at him. From behind the lacy screen of her long lashes shone that unmistakably seductive glint that could make his heart race like nothing else. Save maybe, the so arousing hoarseness of her voice…

"Good morning."

"Sun's been up for a while," he stated the obvious in a tone that clearly indicated how pleased he was with the reason behind their late awakening.

"So it seems," she breathed between two yawns. She arched against him as she stretched her limbs and smiled a bit embarrassedly when she perceived the effect her movements had on Sully. She started to back away, but he wouldn't let her go, clasping her to him all the tighter.

"Hey, just where d'you think you're goin'?"

She opened her mouth to protest only to find herself immersed in a deep, exploratory kiss. Any argument about getting dressed and fed vanished from her mind as soon as his hand crept down her thigh to cup the back of her knee, where he unabashedly teased the sensitive hollow he had found the previous evening, until she could no longer hold back her gasps of delight. She eventually pulled back a little and panted:

"Is this your way of getting my attention?"

Sully chuckled. He answered by confidently hooking her leg over his hip, thus bringing the most intimate areas of their bodies closer. His hand then traced a tantalizing path up the back of her thigh, succeeding in making the skin there bristle, down and back up again, his moves inexorably drawn inward. When he reached his goal, she let out a long shuddering sigh.

"Nope… _This_ is how I get your attention," he growled playfully. In retaliation for teasing her so, she nipped at his bottom lip, and flashed him a fiery look he mistook as one of displeasure. He momentarily feared he had crossed the line and instantly regretted his forwardness, half-expecting her to pull away. But she didn't. Once again surprising him – and herself for that matter – she pressed herself closer, so much closer, her skin rubbing against his… She bit her lip and her cheeks turned to a heated pink at her own brazen behavior. What was it in the way they could make each other forget about just everything in the world so fast, with only a kiss, a touch or a few words? How could they have gone from simply greeting each other upon waking up, to that firing up of all their senses in a matter of a few seconds? She briefly recalled Dorothy telling her that women usually needed more time than men did to be ready for intercourse, which was one of the reasons it sometimes didn't feel all that agreeable to some ladies – for their husbands weren't so willing to wait and ready or not, had their way. The fleeting memory left her wondering all the more about her own reaction. Was it normal that she could feel herself melting so easily? Yes, she indeed _melted_ with the mere nearness of him. She couldn't think of any other word to describe that warm liquefying feeling deep inside, its flow swelling and swirling until it would flood her completely and seek release.

"Hey…" He brushed the pad of his thumb across her lower lip to ease it from her teeth and kissed ever so lightly the bitten spot. He could tell from the way she was moving and breathing against him that she needed him as badly as he needed her. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but feel some remorse for his actions. No matter how readily she was responding to his advances, she was still very much an innocent in the matter of marital relations, and here he was, letting his most lustful instincts take over, like the desire he had held back for three years had broken loose from its dams on their wedding night and swamped his better judgment – like he had forgotten that showing affection could also be achieved simply with a soft kiss, a gentle hug, even loving words…

As if to belie his thoughts on her ingenuousness, Michaela's hand slithered down his abdomen and reciprocated his earlier quite direct overtures, though her caresses remained more timid than his. It was nonetheless more than enough to persuade him to bring their coupling to its inevitable conclusion, so, without further ado, he reached down to join them together…

_Knock! Knock!_

The loud knocking echoed in the room.

They both stilled, and Sully had to gulp several times before he called out "What is it?" in a harsher tone than he truly intended.

"Delivery for Mrs. Sully, Sir," a faltering juvenile voice answered. Disgruntled, all Sully could do was to give his wife an apologetic kiss before he rose gingerly, strategically wrapping one of the bedcovers around his hips to mask the evidence of his arousal, then drew together the drapes of the canopy bed to shield a very flustered Michaela from the intruder's view. He answered the door, opening it only a few inches at first. It was the same young man who had given him the quilt on which they had sat in the park. The bellhop was red-faced, as if he had guessed that he had interrupted a romantic interlude between the occupants of the honeymoon suite despite the lateness of the hour. Sully's curt nod and baleful expression certainly didn't contribute to ease the young employee's discomfiture.

"I'm… s-s-sorry… huh, Mister –"

"Yeah," Sully tersely acknowledged the bellhop's excuse and tore the carpet bag away from his gloved, shaking hand before shutting the door to the young man's face.

"Dunno why they couldna kept it till we got downstairs," Sully mumbled as he dropped the bag at the foot of the wardrobe before returning to the bed. Michaela's disheveled head poked through a gap between the drapes.

"They obviously didn't expect us to stay in so late on a Monday. Perhaps it was getting in their way," she ventured with a hesitant smile. "But at least, now, we will be able to get out of town like you wan–"

"First things first," he cut in. He let the cover around his waist fall to the floor, so she could see that his ardor hadn't been doused in the least by the untimely disruption, and joined her back in bed. Eyes, arms and legs locked together. They would get dressed… later.

* * *

In the carpet bag, Colleen had managed to squeeze in one of her mother's hats, a neckerchief and a pair of gloves between the leather riding skirt, a waistcoat and a couple of blouses. As Michaela took them out, a slip of paper fluttered out of the folds. It read:

_Dear Ma and Sully,_

_We hope you're enjoying yourselves in Denver. Here, everything's fine. The bed, chairs and wedding clothes came back safely and Grandma had them put away in the new barn for the time being. During the picnic today, everybody was still talking about how grand and beautiful and romantic your wedding was…_

This gave her pause. Oh yes, indeed, the wedding had exceeded all of her expectations!… All her youth, her choice of career had earned her countless gibes about scaring off suitors and never being taken seriously as a doctor, so she would grow into a lonely, pitiful spinster no decent man would ever want to care for. Her stubbornness had prevented her from giving in to social pressure, but in the deepest recess of her heart, she had longed for love as much as for acceptance. Just like any other girl, she had yearned for her knight in shining armor – she had wished she would meet a man that could sweep her off her feet and carry her off into the sunset. As she had grown into adulthood, it had seemed nothing more than a rather childish fantasy. Even though back East, weddings in high society could indeed be termed as _grand_ , they were mostly staged as to impress neighbors and acquaintances. She had sat in the back pews often enough to have witnessed many a union that were more about making good matches – like it was some juicy business deal – than enacting what she thought to be the true meaning of a marriage… How incredibly lucky she was! Not only had hers been a wedding out of a fairy tale, but she had wed a man she loved with more strength, depth and passion than she had ever thought humanly possible, while he had proven again and again that he felt the same about her. And the icing on the cake, so to speak, had been the outpouring of affection from all their friends, all the genuinely happy faces that had surrounded them on this unique day.

Hearing him whistling merrily in the bathroom, where he was shaving, brought her back from her musings. She read the rest of Colleen's note, and smiled fondly at the three signatures at the bottom, Matthew's, Colleen's and Brian's, surrounded by a string of hearts, _We love you_ and _We miss you_. She felt a twinge of guilt that she hadn't missed her children as much as she had thought she would. She _did_ think about them, and she knew they were being well cared for, so she had no reason to worry, yet it wasn't as if she was busy taking care of patients during an epidemic, or away to collect samples of polluted water; neither was she looking for someone who was missing… For the first time since she had come to Colorado – come to think of it, for the first time in her life – she was away from her family for a strictly personal reason. _Speaking of family_ … she headed for the bathroom, her arms loaded with her riding clothes, and paused in the doorway to observe her husband. He had stopped whistling to do his upper lip, and the only sounds were the light scrape of the blade on his skin and the occasional tapping of the razor on the china bowl. He only had his buckskins on, hanging low on his hips. In the reflection of the large mirror, she could get a glimpse of the suggestive shadow below his navel. And she blushed at the thought that he wore nothing else but the soft leather. She couldn't figure out why this particular detail was stirring her so much, now, when it must have been so ever since she had known him, and before. Was it because she had never dared to consciously acknowledge it before they got married? Because it would have been far too inappropriate to even wonder about it?

Sully caught her reflection in her mirror, the direction of her gaze and the subsequent blush, and if not for needing to be so careful with the razor, he would have broken into a cheeky grin, like the cat that ate the canary. _Sweet Michaela!_ Bold enough to peek, and still ingenuous enough to blush at her own boldness!

Her eyes went back to his face as he patted his cheeks and neck with cologne, its delicate aroma floating out to her. That was another flagrant difference she so loved about him: the discreet, herbal scent of his skin after he had shaved, nothing like the pungent-smelling mixture that most men were used to pouring – a bit too liberally sometimes – onto themselves. The pink on her cheeks turned a few shades darker as she fought the impulse to thrust herself into his arms, bury her face in its now customary place below his chin and get a good whiff of that intoxicating scent…

"Whatcha thinkin'?"

She shuddered. _Hmm, his voice_ … The burning redness spread up to her forehead and down her neck when she realized she was getting aroused again, and quite powerfully so. _For goodness' sake, pull yourself together! You're barely out of bed and you're still lusting after him? What's wrong with you?_ She struggled a few seconds to regain her composure before she could answer:

"Huh – hum… The children left a note in the bag, they send their love."

"That's nice of 'em, but I don't reckon that's what you were _really_ thinkin' about just now..."

It was almost annoying how he could read her like an open book. What could she tell him that he hadn't already guessed? Still, she skated around voicing her longings outright, and revealed instead:

"I was thinking about our family, how it has come together… how unorthodox it is, and yet I can't ask for a more wonderful one… You've always been part of it, somehow, even before we confessed our love – even before our first kiss!"

Sully knew she was avoiding the issue, but was moved all the same by what she was saying. He turned around and went to her, wrapping his arms around her lovingly.

"Yeah… I never told you how much it meant to me, when you had to operate on Brian, and you didn't want me there because you considered me a part of your family. I never told you either that you an' the kids, the way you've included me in everythin'… It's what pulled me through when I got beat up, much more than the massages, or going to the hot springs. The love you all gave me is what stopped me from killin' Rankin. No revenge can be worth losin' what I've found with you."

She stood on her tiptoes to reach his lips, and murmured, between kisses:

"I love you, my family."

"And I love you… my best friend."

He wouldn't let the kisses escalate this time round though – he knew how easily they could get swept away – so when he pulled back, he smiled down at her in a way that clearly meant, as if he was stating it out loud, _all in due time_. She understood he had perceived her reawakened desire, and that he wouldn't have minded to attend to it. But they both also needed time out of this room, time to simply enjoy each other's company and to discuss private matters, share secrets… And she had to agree with that.

* * *

The sun had reached its zenith by the time they got out of the hotel and headed for a nearby livery to rent a couple of horses. It didn't take them long to reach the foot of a mountain flank that appeared not too steep, with a wide ridge that overhung the valley, high enough to have a nice view from up there, and yet easy enough to reach so the hike wouldn't take all afternoon.

They had to leave the horses tethered to a tree when the trail became a little too steep and narrow, so they continued on foot, taking their time observing the various plants and animals along their way. It wasn't much different from what they found at home, but to both of them, it felt brand new. Every time they would look at each other, they would be acutely aware that their new outlook on life could only mean one thing…

Finally, they reached their destination. As they stood quietly on the ledge, admiring the breathtaking sight before them, Michaela found her focus irresistibly drawn to her husband. Here, away from the demands and restricting codes of city life, he was back in his natural element. It wasn't so much the way he was dressed, or even his survival skills, it was more evident in his attitude. His apparent relaxed stillness could fool anyone but her. She knew all his senses remained finely tuned to everything around them: which way the wind was coming from, the various smells and sounds of the wilderness – the tiniest change could hint at possible danger… and so aware was he of his surroundings that he knew she was observing him. His lips curled into an amused smile.

"Enjoyin' the view?

Michaela startled, then giggled, not ashamed in the least at being caught.

"Mmh, yes, very much," she replied, her eyebrows quirking in appreciation. "I could stay here forever."

"You know what they say, that you can't live on love and fresh air alone…"

"That's too bad," she sighed. "Being with you like this makes me feel so complete – so… _alive_ , that I can't imagine needing anything else."

"You sure know how to say the things I feel a lot better than me," he said, hugging her tightly and pressing a loving kiss to her brow.

"That's not true, Sully, I told you that already. You always know what to say, and when…"

"That's sweet of you to say, 'Chaela, but I can't pretend I can carry on a conversation 'bout things like the books you like to read, or philosophy and the likes, I bet, the way David or William could've with you."

Michaela pulled back to look straight into his eyes, feeling apprehensive:

"Sully… Is it how I make you feel sometimes? Like I wish you had more schooling or you were interested in everything I enjoyed growing up in a wealthy family?"

"Of course not. I know that ain't how you feel. I just wanna give you everythin'. I'd give you the world if I could…"

"Oh, Sully, don't you know that you _do_ give me everything I need – and more? If anything, I should be the one to worry about not fulfilling all your needs!"

"You gotta be jokin'," he interjected in disbelief. "I still gotta pinch myself every once in a while just to be sure I _am_ actually married to the most beautiful, wonderful and the smartest woman in the world…"

At the same time, they realized how pointless their respective insecurities were as they considered them through the prism of the other's point of view and they broke into laughter. Then they quieted again, a new-found peace flowing through them as their eyes held lovingly for a little while, before they turned their attention back to their beautiful surroundings. At their feet, cheerful meadows of high herbs and flowers in full bloom swayed under the breeze like multi-colored waves that came crashing against the clumps of firs lining the foot of the mountain. The same wind was also busy with playfully chasing a few lazy clouds around the peaks before sweeping down the rocky slopes to come whipping around their hair in its whimsical race. But save from the wind's cheeky whispers, the valley was only echoing with an awe-inspiring peacefulness. Though they weren't even halfway up to the top, still, the landscape and overall atmosphere, the sky so immensely bright above them as if its blue was as luminous as the sun itself, all left them with the same impression Sam Lindsey had described.

"… Like you're insignificant and special all at the same time," Michaela mouthed quietly and reverently.

"Huh?"

"You remember Sam, don't you?"

"Sure I do."

"The night she talked us into going fishing, she told me what it felt like to reach a mountain top… Exhilarating and peaceful – like you really belong to the earth. Like nothing else can make you feel more alive, except…"

"Except?"

She peered up at him again, her eyes suspiciously bright.

"Falling in love."

Simultaneously, they moved into each other's arms. Everything that needed to be said had been – for the moment, at least.


	11. No More Excuses

By the time Michaela and Sully decided to return to their hotel, the sun had already disappeared behind the mountains, its last rays drawing streaks of fire upon the peaks. Enchanted by their outing, their senses filled with the lush beauty of Nature, the couple couldn't help but be amazed that their togetherness made each new experience – even something as simple as a walk – seem more profound and satisfying.

When they reached the hotel it was quite late – far too late for them to have time to clean up and change to go to the dining room, so Sully ordered a light supper to be brought up to their suite. Fortunately, they didn't have to wait too long for it, for they were quite hungry after hours of exercise in the open, fresh air, and they dined ravenously, barely pausing to tease each other about their appetite.

A little while later, Sully returned to the main room, refreshed and eager to snuggle up with his wife. He found her fast asleep, sitting up against the headboard and her hairbrush still in hand. At that instant, she appeared so vulnerable – she was indeed sleeping like a baby, the way little children did after an exciting but tiresome day, exhaustion getting the better of them in a matter of seconds. His heart swelled with so much tenderness that he wasn't disappointed in the least. Quite the contrary, for a few minutes, he took the opportunity to take in the lovely picture she made, her features softly limned by the lamp on the nightstand. He couldn't resist reaching out to caress her cheek with the back of his fingers.

Eventually he took the brush from her, blew out the lamp and, very gently, he slipped one arm under her knees and the other around her torso to lay her down, before he joined her under the covers. The movements had roused her just enough for her to seek the warmth of his arms. She mumbled something unintelligible, and sighed as she settled herself against his chest and tucked her head under his chin. He felt the light swelling of her cheek against his skin that indicated she was smiling, and that made him grin, too.

He resisted his fatigue as long as he could, as he wanted to enjoy this quiet time with her. He wondered whether he would ever tire of holding her at night. Probably never. He had lost too many loved ones in his life not to treasure any precious moment he could spend with the one person he loved more than anyone else, more than he had ever thought possible for a man to love a woman. And what a woman Michaela was! Hank may have meant it as a good-natured barb, but in a way, he had been right – well… almost right: _one helluva woman_. As infuriating as she could get at times with that stubbornness of hers, her feistiness actually was one of the things he loved the most – especially the way it had begun to manifest itself in an entirely new way now that they were married. The passion she put into everything she did had carried over into the most intimate part of their relationship: each time they made love, she became a little bolder and she had even started to come up with initiatives on her own to surprise him. She had been shrugging off her Bostonian ways like Salome had done with the proverbial seven veils – one by one, she was shedding them, revealing more and more of herself to him, not just physically, but emotionally as well. He had no doubt whatsoever that one day, possibly not too long down the road, they would partake in the games of love as evenly matched partners. He was confident that she would then unabashedly come to him for some _holdin'_ whenever she would feel like it– and he would be happy to oblige!…

 _Whoa! Easy, boy_ , he told himself as he realized the direction of his thoughts. He didn't want to wake her up now, nor did he want to be struggling with unfulfilled desires all night long. It had been bad enough before their wedding, and he wasn't willing to go back to that time and resort to desperate measures to relieve the tension. So he yanked his thoughts from their rather stimulating subject and concentrated on simply listening to her peaceful breathing, the only sound in the otherwise very silent room. Then, as if hypnotized, he drifted off as well.

* * *

_Tuesday May, 24th, 1870_

The next morning, a veiled sun fell onto Sully's sweaty, heaving back, as he was slowly recovering from his efforts. His wife's arms and legs were wrapped around him, holding him captive, and this was yet another pleasant discovery for him – that she actually liked to keep him inside like that. The feel of her body quivering under him – and _around him_ – was just as gratifying physically as it was emotionally, and was something he would treasure forever.

For once, Michaela had woken up first. Feeling that she had to make up for falling asleep on him the evening before, she had been the one to kiss him awake, with the softest brush of her lips on his. One blink, one smile and one whispered greeting later, their good-morning kiss had grown deep and breathless and passionate caresses had followed. Though Sully hadn't breathed a word of complaint about her untimely unavailability, the ardor he had just exhibited making love to her suggested that he might have been anxiously anticipating their union all night.

For Michaela, bred in a society where the conjugal duties had to be performed as discreetly as possible, preferably in complete darkness and silence, modestly covered by bedclothes, with as little skin contact as possible, her physical relationship with Sully was the absolute antithesis of what women from her background usually expected and experienced. Especially their morning interludes, when they could enjoy the sight of each other's body, bathed in bright daylight… And what about the voluptuous kisses and touches, his tanned flesh pressed against hers, the completeness such as she was feeling right now … She didn't want to let him go, she couldn't! He was hers and _hers_ alone!

Last, but not least, were the blissful sighs, the encouraging moans – the ecstatic cries… _goodness…_ Her Bostonian mentality wouldn't have this and sought revenge by bringing an umpteenth blush to her cheeks. It was still hard for her to believe that her husband actually liked when she voiced her pleasure. Yet, his smile and the gleam in his eyes in those moments couldn't be mistaken for anything else but triumph and satisfaction. Everything they had been experiencing together in the past few days was as exciting for her as it was bewildering. It truly served to reinforce her belief that their marriage was quite remarkable. Well, no wonder, she was loved by an exceptional man, and she loved him back so much that no word in the English language – nor in any other language that she knew of – could possibly encompass the wealth of feelings she had for him. Save, perhaps, the endearment engraved inside her wedding band. If she was his Heartsong, then he was hers even more!

She was in no hurry to get up, and even when Sully could no longer keep them together and slipped free, she still held him to her bosom as tight as her limbs, heavy with sated lethargy, would allow. She just needed to keep him close, real close – so close she could pretend they were still one.

They spent the major part of the morning in each other's arms, sharing a few soft kisses and whispered words of love, their eyes never leaving the other's, content with simply being in their dearest loved one's presence. Only the annoying necessities of life reminded them that they had to get out of bed eventually. So great was their regret to have to separate that the small, almost apologetic kiss he gave her instantly grew into a much deeper one that threatened to escalate into another encounter – the temptation to surrender to the call of desire drumming through their veins as if their hunger could never be satiated.

Sully tore himself from his wife's enticing lips and promised breathlessly: "Tonight…" with one last feathery kiss to her forehead. He then disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Michaela battling with her longing. Part of her wanted to follow him and get him to finish what they had started – the most elemental part of her being that was presently caterwauling like a lioness – while the Boston lady in her scowled and demanded that she controlled herself immediately. _Shame on you_ , whispered her mother's voice, reminding her of the nightmare two nights ago. She shook herself. Well, of course she wouldn't act so wantonly, but neither would she consider her desire for her husband to be sinful anymore. It was _right_ – and wonderful. Nevertheless, she picked her nightgown up off the floor where it had been carelessly thrown, and slipped it back on in a futile attempt to appear modest while she waited for her turn in the bathroom. She laughed quietly at herself, but at least she felt better: she still wasn't entirely comfortable standing around without a stitch on – unless Sully was there to distract her, of course.

* * *

Sometime later, they were ambling along the streets, looking through the many store windows for presents to bring back to the children. They had no definite ideas about what to give them yet, but were confident that they would find the right gifts in the end.

Since she had come to Colorado, Michaela had learned how to live simply, and make the things she needed herself instead of simply buying them. Though her practice in Colorado Springs was now well established and granted an income sufficient to provide for all her family's needs, it still was rather meager compared to what most of her male colleagues could earn in their city practices, and a far cry from what her own father used to make. Gazing at the many expensive items on display reminded her that, though fancy store-bought presents could occasionally be a pleasant surprise, her most treasured possessions were the gifts Sully and the children had made themselves, or worked very hard for. It was the care, the thoughtfulness, and the love behind them that made them truly precious and meaningful. She didn't want to pick up the first things that would attract her eyes, the way her mother and sisters tended to do whenever they went shopping.

One of the store fronts showed a wide variety of stuffed toys, bears, puppies and others animals of various shapes and sizes, with a few dolls and sets of building blocks in their midst. She stopped in her tracks, instantly drawn to the colorful window. A small, inaudible sigh escaped her.

Seeing what had caught her eye, Sully guessed easily that she wasn't thinking of the Cooper kids right at the moment. He, too, wondered about the little one they both hoped to have. Had its life already started...? He knew that it might take a few weeks before they could tell for sure if Michaela was pregnant…

He was distracted from his thoughts by Michaela's tugging on his hand again and pointing at a particular item hanging from the ceiling a few feet behind the display. He chuckled when he saw her beaming smile – it was a smile he had been seeing quite often for the last few days. She seemed to be enjoying herself so much, and her excitement was so contagious that it made him feel younger than he ever remembered feeling – ever since… His mind clamped down as soon as the grievous memory of his mother's death threatened to sneak its way into his heart and choke him with its icy fingers. The only feeling he wanted to feel was the joy of spending time with his wonderful bride, of having her undivided attention for once. And the large kite in the store was beckoning to them, as if saying it was high time Michaela had learned how to fly one properly.

She did protest a little at him spending money when he could have made one himself, to which he answered: "No more excuses. You're gonna fly that kite, and that's the end of it."

She giggled at the playful assertiveness of his tone, and her attempt to sound serious and meek when she said, "Yes, sir!" failed miserably.

The day was windy, and a bevy of clouds raced each other across the sky. The clouds were heavy, hinting at a possible rainstorm later in the afternoon. Always attentive to the weather, Sully momentarily pondered their decision to go back to the meadow they had crossed the day before, which was quite far out of town, thinking perhaps they should wait for a sunnier day. Then again – there was no cloying wetness in the air, nor telltale earthy smell of the soils that would normally announce an impending storm. Weighing their options, he decided that the prospect of prompting Michaela to do something just for fun, without following a strict schedule where even periods of leisure had to start and end at a precise time, far outweighed the risks of getting caught in the rain. _There's no time like the present_ , he mused with a grin.

They found a nice large clearing beyond a thick patch of woods where they could run and laugh without being disrupted by the many comings and goings in and out of town. And laugh and run they did – plenty. After many failed attempts, Michaela finally managed to keep the kite up in the air long enough to be able to have it executing a few simple figures.

"You're doin' good, stay with it!" Sully called out as he applauded her efforts. He was amazed how quickly she had gotten the hang of manipulating the strings – and yet, it wasn't that surprising: he had seen her perform enough miracles in her clinic, from executing perilous brain surgery on her own son, to fixing severe scarring on the train engineer's face. And she had managed those exploits at her first try! In the face of those accomplishments, flying a kite seemed easy enough. _Ain't she a wonder_ , he mused. Once again he got lost in admiring her. _How did I get so lucky?_ Her eyes and her smile were so bright and animated as she looked up at the wood and fabric frame soaring through the air, and her presence and voice gave out such warmth – the thought occurred to him that she might as well be his Sun, as she had lit up his entire soul from the moment they had met, and had warmed a heart he had thought condemned to the darkness and cold of loneliness forever.

When the kite veered a bit too abruptly and plummeted again to the ground, she began to walk toward him, intending on offering him to have a turn at flying it. But words died on her lips as she realized the way he was looking at her. It wasn't the first time she had caught that expression of utter adoration in his countenance, and, as it had done before, it didn't fail to make her heart pound erratically. But there was something else lurking in his eyes, a trace of something very hard to define, a sort of mournful longing. And then it was gone, and she wondered if she had really seen that flicker, or if it was simply something she had imagined. Nevertheless, she couldn't detach her gaze from his face as she walked straight into his waiting arms.

Sully was overcome with a strong sense of déjà-vu as she neared him with her hair blown about and that crooked smile he loved so much. Only she wasn't all in white, he wasn't in a sweat lodge, and she felt very _real_ , comfortingly solid and warm, when his arms closed around her.

"Sully, are you all right?"

Her voice sounded loving to his ear, but he discerned concern as well. She had felt his mood shift. He could hardly pinpoint himself why he was experiencing those strange fits of nostalgia now, but as slight as they were, she had sensed his emotions. How could he tell her anything when he found it so difficult to articulate his feelings? Besides, she would fret, as she was so prone to do. He knew that this habit of hers stemmed from how much she cared for people, and of course, given how much she loved him and the children, she was bound to fuss all the more!

At her question, he hugged her a little tighter, and one of his hands slid up to her nape to caress it in that possessive way he sometimes used when they had to separate for an indefinite stretch of time, or when he was relieved to find her alive and well after fearing for her safety. Something was definitely amiss. She was about to ask, but he spoke at the same moment:

"How could I not be?" He pulled away enough to be able to gaze at her face. "Gotcha all to myself, my beautiful, wonderful Heartsong! Life don't get no better than this in my book." With those words he lifted her off the ground and spun her around, smiling broadly. And then, as he put her back down, he took her breath and concerns away with a passionate kiss, the hunger of which soon rekindled the desire she had so painstakingly banked a few hours before. _There's an appropriate place and time_ … her own words rang in her mind, but were powerless in the face of what her body was urging her to do.

They were saved from getting irremediably swept away and risking being caught as the clouds above them suddenly broke into a shower. They parted and, laughing, started to run toward the shelter of the trees, picking up the fallen kite on their way. The foliage was thick enough to protect them from the downpour, but one peek at the sky told Sully they were in for a rainstorm that would probably last hours.

"Looks like it ain't gonna let up soon. What d'ya say we use the kite as cover and hurry back to the hotel…" He bent to blow into her ear, eliciting a light squeal from her, and then said just loud enough to be heard above the blatant drumming of the rain "… Get warm and pick up where we left off?"

She swallowed and ran her tongue over her dried lips in anticipation. She nodded once, her twinkling eyes and breathlessness eloquent enough to have him all the more eager to retreat into their room.

Hand in hand and holding the makeshift umbrella above their heads, they ran as fast as her legs would carry her, as she was hampered by her skirt and petticoats, which were soon drenched and caked with mud. But just as they reached the first row of buildings on the outskirts of town, Sully stopped dead in his tracks.

"Sully?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he took her into his arms again, crushing her to his chest, their leaking cover forgotten, and claimed her lips for a deep, sensuous kiss, effectively cutting off all protest she might emit. They stood there in the pouring rain, oblivious to their soaked and dripping hair and clothing. He only pulled back when he felt her shiver violently, both from pleasure and the contrast between the cold, waterlogged clothes and the heat radiating from her skin.

"Would you care to explain yourself?" she sputtered, once again failing to sound serious as the dazed expression on her face gave away how much she had enjoyed that unexpected – and consequently exciting – kiss.

"Been wantin' to kiss ya in the rain ever since our first Thanksgivin'!"

Before she could mouth another word of complaint, he tugged on her arm and soon they were continuing their race through the streets of Denver, which were transformed into sloppy channels. A mere few yards from the hotel entrance, a coach passed them by at full speed and before they knew what had hit them, they were covered in slime from head to toe. They blinked, stunned, then burst into laughter as they took in each other's comical appearance and both recalled Michaela's first run-in with the Colorado mud. _Had it been three years ago already?_

But their mirth was short-lived as they were confronted with the daunting task of going up to their suite without ruining the lush carpets of the lobby with their dripping, dirty clothes. Fortunately, the staff of the hotel was used to those kinds of occurrences and made short work of providing them with towels large enough for two and assured them that they didn't need to worry about anything. One of the bellhops even offered to bring them extra hot water for a bath.

Less than half an hour later, Sully locked the door of their suite and joined his wife in the bathroom. She was grimacing as she contemplated the state of her appearance in the large mirror above the washstand that faced the bathroom door.

"I don't think I've ever been this filthy," she said dispiritedly to his image leaning against the door frame behind her.

He smirked and stepped closer, reaching around to undo the first few buttons of her blouse. He nuzzled her temple, cheek and neck sensually, then murmured, his voice thick and his eyes focused intensely on their reflection in the mirror: "I don't mind. Like I told ya once, no matter what, I'll always love you and find you as beautiful as I did the first day I saw you." Then his mischievous smirk reappeared, thus breaking the potential solemnity of his declaration, as he added: "Of course, back then, ya were already covered in mud!" With that, he pressed a hard kiss to a clean spot at the base of her neck, hungrily suckling the skin there and prompting goose bumps to erupt all over her body, which had remained highly sensitized from the day's amorous play.

He unbuttoned the rest of her blouse and cast it off to the pile of saturated towels on the floor. She caught his gaze dropping to her revealed shoulder, and shuddered as he smacked his lips as if already relishing the taste of her flesh.

"I love your skin." His growled comment between kisses inflamed her senses further, and almost erased the uneasiness she was starting to feel at witnessing her own reaction to his words and touches in the mirror. She just closed her eyes so she would no longer see her hardened nipples so clearly outlined by the flimsy material of her camisole nor her face transfigured with longing.

Before that stolen moment when his attempt to wash her neck and back during the cattle drive had turned into an incredibly erotic experience, she would never have imagined having him kiss her shoulders and neck could be so arousing – for both of them. And now that they were married and no longer had the barrier of propriety to stop them from being intimate whenever they wanted, it seemed that all her sensations were magnified with each new encounter. She found herself wishing she could muster enough boldness to tell him directly how good his sensuous ministrations felt, or return his compliments. She too loved his body, his skin, his eyes, everything – how the mere sound of his voice when he greeted her in the morning, or simply his reassuring presence, could elicit such a powerful thrill of longing deep inside her. She _needed_ to tell him, and yet words just got stuck in her throat. And Sully was the one who had lamented about not always knowing what to say!

Still, she wanted to let him know how much she appreciated what he was doing, especially when one of his hands slipped under her camisole to fondle her breast, while the other was working on loosening the waistband of her skirt and petticoat. She reached over her shoulder and found his neck, which she stroked encouragingly. He let out another soft growl, and tugged at her wet clothes more frantically.

"Sully…"

Her voice – weak, almost defeated. He had come to recognize the various nuances of the way she spoke his name during their lovemaking. Short of her telling him precisely what she wanted, it was still one the surest clues as to how she was feeling. One glance at her face flushed with passion reflected in the mirror confirmed what he already knew: cleaning up would have to wait.

He turned her around so she faced him and shed his own soggy shirt and buckskins, their eyes locked and held as if mesmerized. The dirty water dripping from their hair was drawing dark rivulets on their skin. Michaela knew she shouldn't have felt aroused at the sight, but she did. She just couldn't fight the primeval instinct to be with Sully when it was so demanding. When he lifted her off her feet and swiveled around to press her against the wall, she only protested halfheartedly:

"Sully… the bath?"

"Later. I want you _now_ ," he growled, his own voiced strained with the urgency of his desire.

She whimpered at the bluntness of his words even as she wrapped her legs around his waist and welcomed him inside.

And then, as her body yielded to the all-consuming wildness of this embrace, all thoughts about propriety, cleanliness and discretion dissolved into nothingness.

 _No more excuses_.


	12. In Joy and In Sorrow

After their brief but intense encounter in the bathroom, Sully swiftly acted to prevent Michaela from feeling any kind of embarrassment at submitting to such bold overtures from him, moreover at her own enthusiastic response and impassioned cries, which had echoed in the tiled bathroom, much to his delight. She had indeed blushed profusely afterward, but he had ever so tenderly washed the grime from her hair and skin, pausing once in a while to press a gentle kiss on her cheek or hand. Instinctively knowing she needed distraction, he asked what she wanted to do during the rest of their stay – would she like to see a play? Or a concert, maybe? There was a piano recital scheduled for the next Saturday night… His doting attentions and casual conversation soon made her realize that they had done nothing wrong at all, allowing her misgivings to ease significantly.

When he eventually stepped into the tub after her, there was an impish, questioning glint in his eyes, and she knew intuitively what he meant. Determined, she returned his care, lovingly running the sponge across his back, shoulders and chest. Yet a trace of shyness returned and made her hand tremble when she cleaned his lower half, and her blush returned when she noticed his reaction. Obviously, his arousal was reawakened – and much to her surprise, so was hers, especially since neither of them had meant for this to happen again so soon.

They had not even finished drying off when they breathlessly staggered to their bed, lost in a hungry kiss, the collation brought by the bellhop earlier definitively forgotten, the tea forlornly lukewarm in its pot and the various slices of bread and cake already getting spongy.

They made love again, directly atop the downy satin coverlet which got a bit damp in the process, but neither had cared. Mindful of his wife's emotional and physical comfort zones, Sully set a slower pace this time and took full advantage of being able to hold out much longer to devote himself to her pleasure, succeeding in bringing her to completion twice in a row. And when he finally acceded to his own release, it was the most powerful onrush of energy that had ever coursed through his body, the most incredible sensation of being lifted to dizzying, disorienting heights. Yet, somehow throughout it, every bit of his consciousness remained intensely aware of _her_ , focused on _her_ only and the knowledge that _she_ was in his arms right now. It was even better than the night she had worn the negligee and it definitely confirmed what their precedent unions had taught him: that it was in seeking what pleased _her_ the most that he got his deepest satisfaction, for all he gave her, she gave him back even more.

When he had told her on the train that they would both be learning how to be with one another, he had meant it of course, but never had he expected how much he would learn – about her, about himself, and about how being intimate with one's soul mate was indeed a profound, meaningful and sacred act of love. Moreover, he felt as if they were the only two people on earth able to share such moments of absolute communion and to experience that taste of eternity in their mutual abandon. His awe was reflected in her eyes as they both resuscitated with great shuddering breaths. Again he was at a loss for words – again, all he could do was to gaze raptly at her and keep on caressing her gentle feminine curves, kissing her over and over. Just as wordless as he, she returned his attentions until they could no longer fight the inexorable fatigue, and dozed off, entwined in one another's arms.

* * *

 _Wednesday May, 25_ _th_ _, 1870_

The rain hadn't abated all evening and night and it seemed intent on pouring all day. Many Denver citizens were looking worriedly at the laden sky, wondering whether they were in for another disastrous flood. Some of them even started to prepare for the worst, stocking up food and putting their most valuable possessions in safer places. Bags of sand appeared on thresholds and large wooden planks were installed across the muddiest streets to allow the population to come and go more easily without wading into a sloppy mess up to their knees.

However, there was someone who, for once, couldn't have cared less about the heavy rain. Actually, he was secretly thankful for the excuse to stay in all day. Especially after everything that had happened since he had come back from a kite-flying excursion that had turned out to be more exciting than anybody had bargained for…

Sully presently gazed down at his wife, who was softly smiling in her sleep, and he had to resist the urge to take her in his arms and kiss her awake. She had finally drifted off only a couple of hours before, utterly exhausted from their rather broken night, as it had seemed that they couldn't get enough of each other…

Somewhere well past dinner time, he had awoken to a shivering Michaela snuggling closer to seek his body heat. No wonder, he had realized: they had remained lying atop the damp quilt, naked, and the fire had died down. He had spent enough nights outside not to mind a bit, but of course, Michaela hadn't, though she had showed him on several occasions that she could rough it… She had roused as well when he had disengaged himself from her arms to go rekindle the fire. Returning to the bed, he found she had slid beneath the covers, and obviously had been watching him at his task, judging by the unmistakable hunger gleaming in the golden hazel of her eyes. He simply couldn't remain impassive when her desire was being expressed so openly, blazing as hotly as a bonfire. So, twice again during the night they had surrendered to their irresistible attraction, mesmerizingly serenaded by the languid chorus of the pelting rain outside and the crackle of the fire in the hearth.

The sole memory of those hours was enough to make his heart race again now, even if he was determined to give her some well-deserved rest. He considered getting out of bed, maybe going downstairs to order a large meal to make up for the lack of proper nourishment lately… Had he been the one who had stated that they couldn't live on love only? Maybe he had been wrong… Truth was he was loath to leave her side – she would sense his absence and wake up…

He chuckled to himself. Who was he fooling? He couldn't possibly leave her, not now. Not when he could bask in such incredible happiness from just being near her. Carefully sliding down on his side, he again contemplated her beautiful features. The gray semi-darkness of the rainy morning couldn't even dull the nimbus of radiance that seemed to emanate from her. He knew that he was very possibly getting that impression because he loved her so much, but still, she had so often appeared to him like an angel – maybe she was truly one, sent from Heaven to love, protect and heal him. Again unable to resist the need to touch her, he reached out to caress her face. She flinched slightly at the contact and he half-expected her to turn away to continue her snooze, but instead she turned her head toward him, seeking the warmth of his hand, her smile more pronounced, and a throaty sigh – like a purr, really – escaped her. At that moment, she reminded him very much of a cat begging for human touch. An amused smile tugged the corners of this mouth upwards as he realized that, once freed of all the prim and proper Eastern rules, Michaela had indeed something very feline about her, from her mysterious, mesmerizing and so expressive eyes, to her soft, graceful and supple body. Her independent and inquisitive spirit combined with her affectionate nature certainly added to that perception. Could a cat and a lone wolf like him make it work? So far they had succeeded – far beyond everyone's expectations, including their own.

Though he knew he should probably rest as well, he was now wide awake with bright visions of their future together… he who had been so used to living in the here and now, was finally indulging in imagining how their life together would turn out in the long run. How many children they would have together – he pictured her with a rounded belly, and then with an infant in her arms, nursing… Grandchildren, too, would later be filling their house with laughter and games. He grinned: odds were that they were likely to have both children and grandchildren running around simultaneously, for Matthew and Ingrid wouldn't wait much longer to marry and start their family now that he had given them the old homestead.

His thoughts migrated to their new home, the beautiful house that would be as much their little corner of heaven as their harbor for times of turmoil. Suddenly he was struck with remorse as he pictured the new homestead in his mind's eye – and the look on Michaela's face as she had dealt with her sister and mother's contempt. He realized that he had very possibly misinterpreted the disappointment in her eyes that day. Countless times during their year-long engagement, she had come to watch his progress. The excitement in her eyes and her lavish compliments had been genuine and they still filled him with pride. Michaela would have never pretended just to please him – she just couldn't lie, anyway. Looking back now, he realized that she had more likely felt insulted on his behalf because of her family's lack of acknowledgment of his work. She had probably hoped they would have been as impressed as she was that he had almost singled-handedly built it. She truly loved their home – how could he have ever doubted her?

He could only guess that, as she had anxious about her ability to "perform" her wifely duty, he, for his part, had also held onto a few insecurities when it came to providing for her and for their family. Though they had come to a compromise regarding the use of their respective incomes, the remaining uneasiness he felt regarding the matter had more to do with his need to give her the life he felt she deserved than any stubborn male pride. He had meant what he had said the other day on that ridge, that he'd give her the world if he only could…

On the heels of his feelings of inadequacy, the suffocating guilt he still held since Washita over the terrible fate of the Cheyenne resurfaced, unbidden. Since Cloud Dancing had found him, the Medicine Man had helped him come to terms with many things – the loss of Abagail and Hannah, his brother's death, and had helped him accept the fact that he had helplessly fallen in love with a certain lady doctor. He had prompted him to try and find purpose in helping the Cheyenne deal with the constant double-talk and broken promises from the US government… Sully's jaw clenched. _Helping_? Had he really helped? Most of the tribe that had welcomed him into their midst had been slaughtered by Custer and his men, making his job as an Indian Agent seem a cruel joke, his brother now a tribeless, hounded widower… He had failed the Cheyenne. He had failed his family. His _families_ …

The ghostly pale faces of Abagail as life had drained out of her, and of their baby Hannah, so tiny, so soft and perfect and yet so blue and cold, flashed through his mind, only to be joined by the disturbing memory of his long gone mother. This time though, he didn't succeed in shoving the disturbing images from his childhood far away enough to be able to ignore them. The crestfallen face of his mother, her vacant, bloodshot eyes and unkempt hair kept swimming before his eyes, time and sorrow distorting them like the rippling surface of the Hudson River. She was the one who had needed him the most, and he hadn't been able to comfort her, to assuage her grief after she had lost her husband and her first-born son. He hadn't been good enough to keep her alive…

Michaela moved again and snuggled closer to him. Reflexively, he clasped her to him in a fierce, almost desperate embrace. What if he failed her, too? He had almost lost her so many times, but what if the one thing that could come between them was precisely his incapacity in keeping her safe? Granted, she was much stronger than her petite figure let on: she had survived influenza, a rabid bear's attack, had endured who knew what at the hands of the Dog Soldiers… so many things that would have made most women faint in horror, and even most men he knew lose their self-confidence… But Michaela had faced it all with incredible courage – _the courage of a warrior_. The force of her love had indeed given him some of that courage, too, more than he had actually acknowledged so far, but his long-delayed grief was now so unbearable that he needed even more of her love to blot it out, cleanse himself of it once and for all in his Heartsong's arms. In fact he was suddenly awash with the need to lose himself into her, to bury the pain, the doubts, the fears, along with himself, within the warm cocoon of her body. _No_ , he shook his head at his selfishness: he couldn't ask this of Michaela – that would be _using_ her, and he didn't want to do such a thing to her, not for this reason. What they had together was far too precious…

"Sully?" she asked sleepily, yawning, as he had involuntarily awoken her with his restlessness.

"Go back to sleep," he urged her gently, stroking her back in a soothing motion. "It's still early…"

But she blinked and rubbed her eyes, then sat up next to him, instantly alert as she perceived that again, something had gone awry within him. This time, she wouldn't let the matter rest.

"Something has been troubling you since yesterday. What is it?"

He almost smiled lovingly as the doctor in her, now blended with the concerned wife, was on the ready in a matter of seconds despite her tiredness. From her earnest expression, he knew that she wouldn't be easily placated with denial. He certainly didn't want to spoil their very special time alone together with something he should have put to rest long ago, and yet, he sensed he would lose the battle when she turned the tables on him:

"A few days ago, when I had that nightmare, you told me that I should share with you whatever was troubling me. It has to go both ways, don't you think? I _know_ something's wrong. Please, Sully, tell me… what is it?"

He knew he had to answer somehow, but how? How could he confess to her this turmoil that had surged out of nowhere at the most inopportune moment of his life – of _their_ lives?

Like she had done when he had suffered from the migraine, she instinctively reached out for him, cradling him against her bosom. That motherly gesture sufficed to make his reluctance snap, and he suddenly broke down. Shocked by the unexpected tears, Michaela could only rock him gently, refraining from besieging him with the plethora of questions rushing through her mind, and crooned softly, "Shh, I'm here," into his ear. She wondered if he was thinking of Abagail and Hannah, or if the grief over Washita had finally caught up with him – now that she thought of it, she had seen him profoundly disheartened, but had he truly _mourned_ his Cheyenne family? Whatever this was, he was crying over something painful enough to have sneaked its way into the bubble of their present happiness.

After a few minutes, the sobs that had wracked his body relented, and in a broken voice, he blurted out:

"I can't stop thinkin' of… my Ma, since yesterday. I don' understand why… Why now?"

The resurgence of such memories didn't immediately make sense to Michaela's doctoring instinct, yet she remained silent, allowing him to process his thoughts out loud.

"I got to thinkin' how happy I was with ya, happiest I've ever felt, even as a kid… and suddenly, I remembered my Ma's face last time I saw her…" His voice was so raspy she could barely hear him over the steady hum of the rain outside. It was the ten-year-old Byron's voice, emerging from the ashes of a long lost childhood. "She couldn't get over Willie's death… nothin' I said, nothin' I did made it better for her… like I was hurtin' her when she looked at me, like I was a burden to take care of… and I reckon too much of a reminder of my Pa and brother."

"Yes, very possibly," she murmured, almost to herself as she tried to imagine what Mrs. Sully, the mother-in-law she would never meet, might have felt. An icy, iron fist gripped her heart as she pictured herself losing Sully, and then, one of her children. She had almost lost each one of them at least once, and each time, she had felt close to losing her mind from such distressing anguish. They had all been lucky, the worst had been avoided. But Sully's mother had not been spared from that kind of grief…

Sully went on: "Before Will got killed, our Ma was takin' real good care of us, even though she was workin' so hard to make ends meet…" he paused for a moment, swiping with the backs of his fingers at the stubborn tears that kept rolling down his cheeks. "She took a job workin' in a factory… she'd work up to fifteen hours a day and she'd come home so tired. I… I tried to be good for her, fix my own food, get myself up for school every day, help with chores… I tried to take care 'a her too, when she'd come home and drag herself up the stairs to our apartment. I even cooked for her…but most 'the time she'd say she wasn't hungry and she'd kinda just fall on the bed." He paused again, his mind and heart now totally submerged in his memories.

Michaela sensed he wasn't finished and forced herself to wait patiently until he was ready to share more memories. She was very much aware of the importance of what he was sharing with her, that he was trusting his oldest and most painful wounds into her care. Knowing how private he was about his thoughts and feelings, even with her, she couldn't afford to pressure him in any way and risk a withdrawal into his usual silent, brooding manner.

He resumed his tale after a few minutes. "One night, she came back real late. I had fallen asleep on a chair waitin' for her… She seemed… crushed – like somethin' terrible had happened again. She was standin' there, in the doorway, sorta unsteady. I smelled whiskey on her… My ma never cared for liquor, but I remember wonderin' then if maybe she had tried to drown her troubles into a bottle that night. But it was worse… so much worse. Turned out she'd been attacked by some drunk on her way home. It was payday… He had stolen all her money… he musta been rough with her, her clothes were torn and she had some nasty bruises… I was too young then to tell… but later I wondered if that man had… had…" he couldn't go on, as sobs wracked his body again.

Michaela felt her own eyes well with tears of deep sympathy for Sully's torment and consequently his mother's. It was all too easy to imagine how devastated and desperate Mrs. Sully must have felt, going through so many ordeals, one on top of the other, and finding herself robbed of her means of survival in the process…

"The rest I told you," Sully finished in a despondent whisper, unable to state out loud that the terrible events had led his mother to end her own life by drowning herself in the Hudson River. Michaela understood now that when Sully had mentioned his mother's death, that the drowning was not an accident as she had first thought it was.

He sniffled unceremoniously a couple of times. "I'm sorry, Michaela. Of all times to think about this… and dump it on ya…"

"Sully, I think you needed to release that pain," she soothed. "Tell me something: have you _ever_ allowed yourself to grieve for you mother?" When he only shrugged, she went on, her voice tender, all the while caressing his face and hair and holding him close, as if unconsciously making up for the motherly love he had not received at a time when he had needed it the most."You must have been so angry at her…"

"Nah… I dunno. Maybe a little I guess. Most of what I felt was that nothin' I did had been good enough to make her wanna keep goin', that maybe she didn't love me 'nough to stay with me and figure somethin' out… that I wasn't worth livin' for. Then I tried to convince myself that it was just 'nother accident, and that it had nothin' to do with me. That's how I kept from feelin' guilty, or… I dunno – sorta cursed… know what I mean?"

She nodded, as all the pieces she knew of Sully's life before they met came together and showed so many tragedies that one could indeed see her husband as someone plagued with misfortune and pursued by sorrow. But she vowed to herself that she would do anything to protect him from further harm. Nobody deserved to be happy more than Sully did, and she certainly planned to spend the rest of her life making sure that, from that moment on, he would know nothing but joy and peace of mind.

Sully wept again as his wife encouraged him to allow himself to be submerged by grief, for denying himself of its release would only continue making it fester, and he had waited too long already.

After a while, when it seemed that he had no tears left to cry, he eventually got out of bed to refresh himself a little, but the moment he stood, the room spun around him. He wobbled, and then collapsed helplessly onto the carpet, clutching his head weakly and moaning in pain.


	13. In Sickness and in Health

Michaela sprang into action immediately, rushing to his side to help him up and back in the bed, doing her best not to jostle him too much. Then she drew all of the curtains closed. The daylight wasn't that bright, with the gloomy weather, but she knew darkness and silence would provide a tiny measure of relief.

She was not that surprised that Sully had been struck by a violent headache right after going through such an emotional upheaval. What worried her the most was the rapid onset of the migraine, and its obvious intensity. Time was of the essence to relieve what was the physical response to his wounded psyche. Though she had brought her medical bag, and therefore only a small supply of the needed plants, at least she had them. And if need be, she could still go to an apothecary she knew of here in Denver.

She was never more grateful for Cloud Dancing's teachings, and she hoped the tea and the use of oils he had recommended for those headaches would be enough. She couldn't imagine building a sweat lodge in their luxurious suite, or trying to make one outside in this weather for that matter…

Once she had made sure Sully was as comfortably settled as possible, with a rag generously doused with lavender oil on his forehead and a towel tucked under his head in case he felt nauseous, she dressed quickly and pulled on the cord to summon one of the hotel attendants. With the help of a couple of other bellboys, he expeditiously brought her requested items: a large kettle and more coals for the hearth, basins, thick blankets and buckets of hot water.

Even though the three young men were obviously well trained to deal with the hotel guests' every whim without gawking, or showing any kind of reaction whatsoever, Michaela could tell they were somewhat wary about the proceedings in the darkened room, and no doubt wondering what she was up to. She caught one of them sniffing suspiciously when she put the tea to brew while she prepared the bathroom for what she hoped would be a good substitute for a sweat lodge, and another eyeing her medical bag with a mixture of mistrust and barely concealed curiosity.

"Is there anything else you need, Ma'am?" the attendant eventually asked.

Michaela cast a glance around the room to check if she might have forgotten anything, but it was the low rumble of her stomach, which fortunately was barely audible, that reminded her of a necessity she had overlooked.

"Yes. Would you be kind enough to bring me a bowl of broth for my husband? I'm afraid that's all he will be able to tolerate for now," she added, more to herself than to the man.

"And what will it be for you, Mrs. Sully?"

Michaela startled slightly at the form of address, not only because she was acknowledged as Sully's wife directly for the first time but also because she found that she didn't mind at all. In the face of all that had happened ever since they were married, her reticence in taking her husband's name now seemed so petty and childish… _oh well, now isn't the right time to dwell on the matter_ , she reflected as she redirected her focus on taking care of Sully.

"You can bring me whatever the special is on the menu today, it will be fine. And a pot of coffee, please."

The three young men bowed respectfully when she handed a substantial tip to each of them for their trouble and exited discreetly.

Michaela nibbled carelessly at one of the cake slices from the forgotten collation of the previous evening and then went back to Sully, who was in such a depleted state that he didn't have the strength to complain. Her eyes flew to the clock on the mantle, willing time to go faster so the tea would be ready and hopefully be administered soon enough for the pain to abate quickly. She was certain that the reason Sully's migraine had been so bad the last time he had had one was that it had raged on for days before he had received any care… She racked her brains over and over trying to piece together everything she knew of Sully's history, looking for a pattern in the resurgence of the headaches, only to realize that she actually only knew of the one he had right before he…

Her heartbeat accelerated a little as she recalled his unexpected proposal, but she also wondered what had made that migraine recede in the end… The sweat lodge ceremony? The release of some kind of tension as he had finally proposed to her? She knew he had had a vision seconds prior to calling out to her, but he had never truly told her what he had seen. Had he had some kind of revelation?… Or could it be simply time, wondered her analytical mind, knowing that even the nastiest of headaches eased eventually after a few days…

Whatever it was, she couldn't let him suffer for days without trying everything in her power to make him better. She checked the time again impatiently. She hated waiting, especially when someone she loved was in pain! But she couldn't afford to act recklessly, to administer treatments at random until one of them decided to work! She knew better than that! But the wife in her was seriously threatening to overpower her medical wisdom and throw caution to the wind.

On the heels of her frustration came a strange feeling of guilt. Her heart fluttered and her cheeks flushed a burning scarlet as she thought of the past few hours. Memories flooded her mind and senses of the many ways Sully had solicited such unimagined responses from her still somewhat unseasoned body. They hadn't rested much, even forgoing nourishment. Granted, being on a honeymoon implied spending a large amount of time getting to know one another in a physical way. But it meant other things, too, didn't it? She had let herself get submerged in that whole new world of very pleasurable, intensely satisfying feelings and sensations he had opened up for her, he had so tenderly – so _sensually_ – attended to all her needs, needs she had never known she could have before… and what did she give him back, really? Not only that, but now she wondered if the sudden change in their sleeping and eating habits, due to their frequent intimate encounters, might have contributed to Sully's migraine to some extent with undue fatigue.

More than a little upset with herself, she leant forward to ever so softly kiss his cheek, never more in love with him and grateful that such a man was in her life. She slipped one of her hands into his, which was resting on his heaving chest, while with the other she gently wiped the perspiration off his brow. Her mind and heart were focused on one unique task: heal him, whatever the means.

During that time Sully was struggling against helplessness, as much as his debilitated state would allow. Suffering within a heavy shroud of misery, he could barely string together two coherent thoughts, but at least he was sure of something: Michaela was witness to his present state, she was being forced to tend to him, like she had done the year before. It was rankling to his male ego in spite of himself, and yet, in the years they had known each other, Michaela had seen him in just about every state of injury, sickness, heartbreak, and God knew what else, but she had never, _ever_ looked at him as if thinking of him as less than a man, both as his doctor and as the woman who loved him.

His befuddled, distorted senses registered that some other people came in their room, bringing things, and talking in hushed tones. Then Michaela came back next to him, applying more cool cloths to his forehead. The relaxing scent of lavender coming from the oil she was using, coupled with the fact that it came directly from her, made its effect doubly soothing.

Eventually, she managed to get him to swallow a few sips of tea, and when it appeared that his dizziness had receded a little, she escorted him into the bathroom, doing her best to let as little steam out as she could.

"You… you made a sweat lodge?" he asked feebly, shielding his eyes against the one small lamp she left burning.

Michaela let out a wry, self-conscious giggle. "Well, as close to one as I could manage, at least. I don't know if it will work as well as a real one. But it's better than nothing, I suppose," she whispered, afraid that her voice echoing through the bathroom might hurt him.

He gave her shoulder a weak squeeze of gratitude, and with her help, lowered himself onto the pile of blankets laid on the floor tiles. Then she arranged the rest of the bedcovers provided by the staff to form an enclosed area around him. The result certainly didn't look like a lodge, she mused with a wince, but it was the best she could do presently.

"'Chaela?" Sully's muffled voice sounded even weaker, and she feared a new onslaught of the headache.

"Yes? What is it?" she asked, still keeping her voice low.

"Please… B – bring me my… medicine pouch," he mumbled, miserably pressing the heel of his hand against his right eye when she pulled back the edge of the blanket.

Fortunately it didn't take her long to locate the small bag and return with it. She handed it to him, and then, as she stepped back again toward the bathroom door, he called her back anxiously. "Where ya goin'? Stay with me, please."

"I'll be right back," she murmured in her most reassuring tone. "I'm only getting more hot water for the steam."

While she was gathering the last items they might need, she heard the same muffled chanting he had sung during the first healing ceremony she had witnessed. She was a bit wary regarding the nature of the herbs Sully was using, remembering how light-headed she had felt when she had gone through the experience of "cleansing" herself from her guilt and grief after Washita, sitting in the sweat lodge with Cloud Dancing. But maybe that was exactly what Sully needed right now… and he needed her to stay with him during that process. How could she deny him of that? Resolutely, she shed her blouse, skirt and stockings and, wrapped into one of their bed covers, she went back to the bathroom.

* * *

The piercing pain was relentlessly slicing through the right side of his head. Blinded, disoriented, and nauseous from both the intensity of the pain and the vertigo, he could barely concentrate on breathing in the scented vapor that was swirling around him. But the small, cool hand clasping his and the reassuring presence of his wife next to him when she finally joined him under the makeshift tent, managed to soothe him somewhat. Unlike the year before, he was no longer trying to hide anything from her, nor was he afraid to allow her to see him vulnerable. Feeling at least safe and protected under her warm, bounteous care relaxed him enough to slip into a sort of uneasy, hypnotic doze.

_At first, he found himself in a strange place, and yet, something was oddly familiar. He was walking along a river, but it was neither the South Plate River, nor Cherry Creek, and he certainly wasn't in Colorado at all anymore, for the Rocky Mountains had vanished from the landscape altogether. He ambled some more, until he reached an area he instantly recognized: the riverbank where a steersman had landed his boat and brought back Katherine Sully's body._

_Sully blinked a few times to try and erase the ghastly memory of his mother's deathly remains, until he again only saw the deserted riverbank. For some time, he stood there silently contemplating the soft ripples on the surface of the water, waiting…_

_And then she came to him. Her face was serene, and yet, there was an unmistakable melancholia tarnishing the vivid cornflower blue of her eyes. The wind blowing her long blonde tresses about, which used to give her such a youthful appearance, now only seemed to accentuate her forlornness._

_"Ma?"_

_A sad smile appeared on her lips. He had almost forgotten how her smile looked at all. His heart constricted at the sight._

_"Byron," she simply said. Her voiced was as soft as he remembered it from those days when she still had energy left to tuck her two sons in and read to them at night._

_He wanted to go to her, but something held him back. He was indeed angry, he realized, though all the resentment he held toward his mother felt somewhat muffled after years of being ignored. Twenty-five years was indeed a long-time._

_His mother presently looked as he remembered her from before Will had died, before tragedy had marred her features. Though sadness was still evident in her eyes, she was looking at him with a mixture of pride and tenderness, something he had not felt coming from her in the last months of her life. He also could tell she wanted to say something, but was hesitant. Was she afraid of his wrath?_

_Finally he decided that he would talk first. He needed to clear the air. Part of him was afraid to do so, to bring up all the heartache again. But a warm presence he could neither see nor touch, but felt just the same, as if it came from inside, was encouraging him._

_"Ma, please tell me it was an accident. Tell me you didn't end your life just like that."_

_Tears welled in his mother's eyes. She shook her head._

_"D'you want me to lie?"_

_Sully swallowed hard. "How could you leave me? Didn't you think of what would happen to me after you were gone?" he spat bluntly, only to regret immediately his harsh tone when he saw his mother's face crumble into tears._

_"I – I couldn't… I couldn't go on, Byron. I even thought you'd be better off without me… I wasn't thinking straight – I just felt I had nothing left to give you… I had failed you too, Darling… I had failed everybody," she sobbed._

_Sully felt terrible, as the heart wrenching reality of his mother's state of mind hit him. Michaela had told him briefly about melancholia, its various degrees of severity, and how even wealthy or very much loved people were so badly affected that they simply were unable to see any way out of the pain other than seeking to end it, whatever the means. Anything to blot it out: excessive consumption of alcohol or powerful narcotics such as opium, leading to overdoses, or more radical means like shooting or hanging themselves… or throwing themselves under a train – or in the water…_

_He could only go to his mother and enfold her in his arms. It felt strange to hold her now that he had grown into a man, and she felt almost tiny now… more fragile and vulnerable than he had ever known her._

_"Forgive me," they both said at the same time. He only squeezed her tighter, suddenly feeling the strength he had lacked as a child now finally potent enough to comfort and protect her, if only for this brief reunion. And he felt her gentle, motherly kiss on his cheek, its warmth spreading within his soul like a soothing balm. Could they be making peace so simply, so fast? Yes. The love they used to have as mother and son hadn't died and seemed to be rising from its ashes like a bright, golden phoenix. He felt his heart singing and smiled at last, realizing who else was *there*, watching over him, as if assuring herself that everything was going the way it was supposed to._

_"I can rest in peace now," his mother said. "You're in the best of hands."_

"I know," he whispered to no one in particular, as she had vanished along with the riverbank, and he found himself back under the tent of blankets, bathed in sweat… and feeling the pain and misery receding at last. He had no idea how long he had been in a trance, but the small hand was still holding his. He opened his eyes to gaze at his anchor to the real world.

Though he felt thoroughly drained from the bout of migraine, the relief of being freed from it made him slightly euphoric – almost like how he had felt when he had proposed to Michaela and the exhilarating moment when she had said yes. He felt sleepy, but what he wanted even more than a sweet, dreamless rest was to touch and hug his wife, to assure himself that she was there to stay, that she would never leave him.

Knowing she was still in full blown physician mode, he let himself be escorted back to the bed and tucked in, but when she made as if to leave his side, he held fast onto her hand and gave it a light tug to indicate that he wanted her to lie down next to him.

Unable to resist the invitation, Michaela complied, very much relieved that the crisis hadn't lasted long. It was only early evening now, and hopefully after a long night of undisturbed rest, he would be back to his normal, strong self. He might still need to address the pain of losing his mother, but something she couldn't really pinpoint told her that the worst was behind him now.

"Thank you," he said, unable to find other word to express his gratitude for her care.

"In joy and in sorrow, in sickness and in health… no matter what, I'll be there for you Sully, just like you've always been there for me. I'll be there… forever," she pledged.

Though his arms felt as heavy as lead, he clasped her to him in a euphoric embrace.

"Nĕ mĕ hō′ tĭst Heséeotá'e," he whispered lovingly against her cheek between kisses.

Her eyes sparkled in recognition of her Cheyenne name and even though her Cheyenne was still limited, she guessed he had just told her _I love you, Medicine Woman_. So it was with a voice vibrant with emotion that she answered him, "I love you, too… My Heartsong. Hësta… noo'ôts," she pronounced hesitantly, unsure that it was the correct translation.

He pressed his lips to hers, deeply moved. How he loved this woman! But the pull of his fatigue was calling him in, and his eyes irresistibly slipped shut.

"Forever", she repeated, stroking his brow as he sank into the healing oblivion of sleep, safely enfolded in his wife's arms.

* * *

_Thursday May, 26_ _th_ _, 1870_

When Sully awoke the next morning, it was to find that it had finally stopped raining, though the greyish light filtering through the gap of the curtains indicated that the clouds still shielded the sun.

He felt mercifully rested and at peace, the only reminder of his ordeal being a lingering trace of physical weakness weighing on his limbs, as if he had had to wrestle with the entire Seventh Cavalry.

His eyes alighted on the beloved face of his wife, hovering above him as she had when he had fallen asleep, the only clues she had got any sleep at all in the midst of her vigil were her disheveled hair and her still heavy eyelids. But even so, to him, she was still the most beautiful woman.

"Good morning. How's our patient this morning?" she asked with a soft smile.

"Much better, Dr. Mike, thanks to ya," he answered teasingly.

Relieved to see the familiar, humorous twinkle back in his eyes, she leaned in to give him a good-morning kiss. He let out a small chuckle when she pulled back.

"I hope you don't treat all your patients like that. Your husband might get jealous…"

"My husband has nothing to fear in that regard. He's the only one I'm kissing all better," she bantered back. Again they kissed, their lips and tongues settling into their now familiar rhythm within a mere few seconds. Yet, while all her nerve endings screamed at her not to stop, she forced herself to break off the kiss and to slip back into doctor mode.

"How are you _truly_ feeling?" she asked again, her expression one of earnest concern and her eyes searching his for any sign of remaining distress.

"Relieved," he answered truthfully. "'Bout everythin'," he added for good measure, unwilling to delve into the details of the experience and hoping Michaela would understand.

She bit back the further questions that were crowding her mind and her worry that the whole ordeal might not be over yet, choosing not to insist as she would have done with any other patient. But there was another matter she needed to deal with.

"Sully, I need you to tell me how often those migraines occur, so I can give you the most appropriate preventive cure, to at least try and reduce their frequency and intensity…"

Sully frowned, trying to recall the times he had been incapacitated to such an extent by his headaches. The majority had subsided on their own in a matter of a few hours, and only a few of them had been bad enough to stop him from going about his everyday routine.

"The real bad ones – they don't happen that often," he eventually said with a dismissive shrug.

But Michaela wouldn't let herself be placated so easily. "Have you noticed what seems to trigger the headaches? Lack of sleep? Hunger? Certain kinds of food? A change in the weather? It may be seasonal…"

Sully had to smile at her persistence. He should have known that she wouldn't let the matter rest until she had found all the answers.

"I dunno, Michaela… Honest… I can't tell ya for sure what causes those headaches. Sometimes, I'm just upset, sometimes I get 'em when I feel snow comin' in the winter… can be anythin', and nothin' at the same time."

Michaela pondered his answer for a few minutes, wondering how many times in the past he had secreted himself away for days to get through the crisis on his own. Well, no more of that! She didn't want to make him feel cooped up, but she would keep a close eye on him from now on.

"All right. We'll deal with the preventive treatment when we go back home. At least, for the time being, I want you to rest, and to eat properly. You need to regain your strength."

"Doctor's orders, huh?"

"Indeed. I'm prescribing a full day of complete bed rest, plenty of fluids and three light meals."

"Huh uh," he groaned dubiously. Then a devilish glint appeared in his eyes. "If ya wanna make sure I stay put all day, you'll have to stay in bed with me," he challenged her.

"Husband's orders, is it?" she fired back.

"Indeed," he imitated her earlier manner, before drawing her back to him for another round of earnest kissing.

"But what are we going to do all day?" she whispered before their lips collided.

"We'll think o' somethin'."


	14. Checkmate

Never had it been harder for Michaela to tear herself away from Sully's sensuous, all-consuming kisses and caresses. Her need to love, protect, and nurture him at all costs, coupled with her relief over his physical and emotional recovery, exploded into a fierce desire that set her entire body afire within seconds. No amount of Boston restrictions could have quelled that burning longing, but it was the doctor in her who ended up being the voice of reason.

"I believe I said complete rest, didn't I?" she uttered breathlessly.

Sully could only groan in protest, as the irresistible tide of his arousal had already rejuvenated his vitality.

"As much as I trust my doctor, I think this time she may be a little overprotective. My wife can _take care_ o' me just fine," he teased, his innuendo openly provocative.

Michaela found herself on the verge of giving in to temptation, but the fear of a relapse, as well as a returning trace of misgivings that she might be allowing herself to become overly lascivious, shook her out of her trance-like state. Before he could tighten his embrace to hold her captive, she had slithered out of the circle of his arms and out of bed. Despite the unmistakable flicker of sexual frustration in her eyes, she still spoke with determination when she rebuffed him.

"I'm afraid your wife must agree with your doctor right now… we _both_ want you to get proper rest and nourishment." She raised her eyebrows as to challenge him, but when he didn't object, but merely stuck his bottom lip out in disappointment, she concluded, "so I'm going to order breakfast, and then we'll have to find a _quiet_ past-time…"

Feigning resignation, he laid back on the pillows, with his hands laced behind his head, trying to relax. Yet, just seeing her move around the room and picturing her removing her nightgown and putting on her clothes was enough to sustain his restlessness, and he started devising a plan to outsmart his wife's doctoring instinct…

One hour later, they were silently sitting side by side on the bed, empty plates, cups and coffee pot on large trays before them. Their denied longing was still pulsating in the air around them, creating a tension that was hard to bear for them both.

Michaela was trying to avoid meeting his eyes, which she knew were on her, watching her every move. It was as if his soul possessed invisible arms that were reaching out to her, pulling her into an unbreakable embrace. All too aware of how close she was to caving in, she proposed the first pastime that popped in her mind. "How about we borrow a chessboard from the game room?" she offered, hoping it would be either challenging or serious enough to take both their minds off their rather demanding bodily appetites.

Sully turned up his nose at the prospect at first, but then reconsidered – he knew how to play, and maybe… he grinned as he imagined ways of teasing her out of her professional shield. He could tell she was fighting her desire for him, and that flattered and humbled him at the same time, that she could want him so much while remaining so concerned about his well-being that she was denying her own needs. His copy of _Leaves of Grass_ was also a possible option. But the more he thought about it, the more a game of chess seemed a good idea. A _very good_ idea…

When he acquiesced to her offer, Michaela missed the telltale twinkle in his eyes as she rushed out, glad she had a plausible reason to escape from the room, and from her husband's irresistible appeal. Of course, she could have simply summoned a bellhop to fetch the game set for her, but she needed the few minutes apart to pull herself together. On this score, she was truly surprised at herself… just a few days before, she would have never imagined that it was possible for a woman to feel that way, drawn so strongly to her lover, like a magnet to steel. Yet as she walked down the corridor towards the staircase, she rubbed her arms to try to dispel the gooseflesh there, brought out by the frustrated amorous tension within her body, took deep, calming breaths, and tried hard to steer her mind from its stubborn direction – _Sully_ , his loving touch, his voice velvet-soft as he murmured endearments against her ear, his… _STOP! Stop it!_ She stopped a moment in her tracks, unsure whether she should laugh at herself, cry, or forget all about the stupid game, go back to the room, and give in to her need… _No, no and NO! How dare you think something like this! What will Sully think of you if you impose yourself on him, especially after ordering him to rest?_

When she came back to their suite, she still wasn't as composed as she would have preferred to be, but Sully, on the other hand, had managed to steel his features into a calm façade, even as he noticed her remaining agitation. He would have to find a way to convince her that it was perfectly all right for _her_ to be the one to initiate their intimacy, and that unless he was seriously sick, he would be more than eager to let her _have her way with him_.

Silently, Michaela set up the board and pieces, and Sully chivalrously let her take the whites and make the first move. Since they had never played chess together before, Michaela had no idea what kind of opponent Sully would be, so at first she went easy on him, reining in her penchant for ruthless competition. _No need to make him feel intimidated…_ but after a few deft moves from _him_ , she realized that her husband was actually a challenging adversary, and her jumbled thoughts suddenly cleared as she drew all of her focus on the game, fully intent on not letting him win.

Indeed the match ended in stalemate, with her king trapped by Sully's queen and king. Unwilling to lose face, she challenged him to another game, and this time, she played to win. Sully had to chuckle as she triumphantly cried, "Checkmate!" and he was seriously considering his options for retaliating, but again she forestalled him by announcing it was time to get ready for lunch.

"Do you feel well enough to go downstairs, or should I order room service again?"

Knowing that he would not be allowed in the dining room wearing his buckskins, Sully was very tempted by the second option… and yet, it would be a good _move_ to dress up, not only because he knew how much she enjoyed seeing him in a suit, but it would also show her that he felt very well rested indeed. In addition, if a nap was in her post-lunch plans, he fully intended to show her that the word could take on a whole other meaning between married people.

"Let's go," he stated decisively, as he sprang out of bed in his usual sleek manner and, sending a mischievous wink her way, went to the wardrobe to get his suit and start dressing – deliberately standing naked in front of her and moving around the room.

She froze, as pleasantly surprised to see him so apparently… _hardy_ , as she was flustered by the sight of him in such complete nakedness. She was now familiar enough with his body that she wasn't blushing with shyness, but rather, the sight seemed to draw her gaze like a bee to a flower. _Michaela Anne! Don't stand there gaping!_ she scolded herself…

"'Chaela? Can ya put on that one?"

Startled out of her musings by his request, she saw that he had taken out her powder blue silk dress, the one she had brought home from her trip to Boston and worn at the Sweetheart Dance. The memory of that enchanting evening brought an instant smile to her face, and she was more than happy to comply when she saw the expectant gleam in his eyes. She joined him and, as she took the garment from his hands, she stood on her tiptoes to give him what she intended to be a small but affectionate and appreciative kiss. Yet, she found herself ensnared into a deep, heated one before she had time to process its happening, and the passion that had simmered below the surface all morning burst forth and overcame them. Dropping their apparels unceremoniously, he was a split second away from scooping her into his arms and carrying her to their bed when, with a supreme effort of will, she yanked herself from his hold.

"No… no, no," she whispered plaintively, "we can't… not now…"

"Why not?" he asked rhetorically as her reasons for resisting their feelings were easy to guess, but he wanted her to articulate them out loud. Irrefutable arguments – especially when it came to her doctoring – were usually one of her strengths to get her patients, or anyone else for that matter, to comply with her wishes, but he could play that game, too.

"Because…"

"Because?"

Her eyes snapped open, and he saw in their shimmering depths a raw emotion, mirroring the one she had displayed in an uncannily similar situation. Only this time, the tables were turned on her. He was the one demanding an unequivocal answer. _Would she blurt out "Because I love you" in the heat of the moment,_ he mused.

She didn't, though. She could barely remember why they should refrain from being intimate in the first place, her desire for him like a whirlpool in which she was spiraling out of control, drowning into it the same way she was drowning in his eyes.

" _Because_?" he insisted.

She clung desperately to the last shreds of her coherent mind and tried to get the rhythm of both her breathing and heartbeat to a less alarmingly high speed as she – quite reluctantly – answered him, "Because I don't want you to overexert yourself when… when you… only just recovered. You still need to… to rest…"

Sully chuckled.

"I told ya, you don't gotta be so worried 'bout me… I'm _fine_."

 _Oh God… his voice…_ she shivered, and closed her eyes again, trying to break the spell cast by his mere presence, much less his sensual magnetism.

"Only thing that's wrong with me _now_ ," he went on, his tone dropping lower still, "is that I've been feelin' kinda tense all mornin'… as _you_ have… and there's only _one_ thing I can think of that'd make us feel all better." There was no possible doubt regarding the nature of that _thing_ in her mind, and if she had felt like she had been on fire before, it was nothing compared to how she was feeling presently.

Sully pondered – with difficulty – whether he should pursue his seduction, seeing how close she was to yielding, or if he should wait until they were back from the dining room. He knew all he would have to do would be to pull her back into his arms again, and kiss her senseless. Yet, any encounter initiated before lunch would have to be rather hurried… and he certainly much preferred taking his time when it came to making love with his wife!

"I'll make a deal with ya. We go down, and after lunch, I'll challenge you to another game of chess. Winner gets to decide what we're gonna do this afternoon," he concluded, grinning roguishly, his heart pounding expectantly as part of him secretly hoped that Michaela would want him so bad that she would reject the proposition and be the one to drag him to the bed. And yet again, it still might be a bit too soon for her to follow her own impulses. _Better pull on the brake, *now*, before we cross the line!_ They were already hovering dangerously close to the point of no return…

He silently congratulated himself as he saw the fierce spark of competition returning in her eyes, and as she actually took up the gauntlet. She was playing right into his hands!

"Deal!"

* * *

Though the process of changing into the blue gown, with all of the petticoats and the now dreaded corset, not to mention putting her hair up, had taken quite a while, Michaela was still feeling the after-effects of their rather piquant teasing when she and Sully went to the dining room. She barely paid attention to what was on the menu, picked at her food and only drank water, as her mouth stayed stubbornly dry. Sully noticed her uncharacteristic moodiness and wondered whether he should be glad for it, or worried. Had he been guilty of letting things go too far between them earlier? He had never heard about women having that kind of physiological threshold beyond which it was hard to settle down, like it happened to men, but then, why not? He frowned slightly at the thought that he might have caused discomfort to his wife and was more determined than ever to get her to take a _loving nap_ with him after lunch. _And forget that game!_

"Michaela, you all right?" he asked after she released yet another soft sigh.

Her head snapped up, and she graced him with her customary crooked grin.

"Yes. I guess I'm just not very hungry."

"Me neither," he returned, raising his eyebrows, as if to signify to her that he was ready to go back to their suite if she was. But he hadn't counted on Michaela being able to remain the ever-professional doctor even as the wife – the _lover_ – in her was so obviously champing at the bit to return to their private quarters. Her smile fell as concern laced her features.

"Are you still feeling nauseous?"

"Nope. I'm _fine_. 'Chaela… stop frettin' about the megrim, it's _gone_." Feeling her eyes scrutinize him in search for signs of mendaciousness, he said, lowering his voice and regarding her pointedly, "I ain't hungry… for _food_ … same as you, I'd wager…"

His statement served to make her skin turn a few darker shades of pink, and she had to avert her gaze, slightly embarrassed that her innermost feelings could be so easy to read. Yet, maybe only Sully could tell, because he knew her so well – she certainly hoped so. In that case, did she really mind that he read her like an open book…? Her heart fluttered at the thought, and she lifted her gaze up to meet his again, the unwitting seductive gleam back in her eyes.

So, when he quickly wiped his mouth on his napkin and indicated with a swift motion of his head the direction of the staircase, she didn't need more of an invitation. Fingers threaded tightly, they ascended the stairs and scurried straight to their room, their feet moving faster with each step.

As the door closed, Michaela expected Sully to take her in his arms right away, to start undressing her, or lead her to their bed, but when he directed her to the couch, she cast him a puzzled look.

"Deal's a deal," he reminded her, intentionally using his most seductive tone. "And I plan to make it _sweet_."

He kissed her teasingly, long and deep enough to weaken any resistance she might have, but not so it would prompt them to lose complete control yet. Light-headed and breathless, Michaela dropped onto the settee, trying to regain her senses while Sully went to fetch the chessboard they had left on the bed. A maid had come to straighten the room while they were downstairs, and she had put it on the console table that stood between the French windows.

When he settled on the footrest on the other side of the coffee table and replaced the pieces to start the game, she eyed him with a mixture of tender exasperation and longing. " _That_ wasn't very fair play," she breathed.

Sully knew she was referring to his kiss, and grinned wickedly. "Ya know what they say," he retorted, fixing her with an ardent stare, " _All's fair in love and war_ …"

"Is that so?"

"Told ya, winner gets to decide what we do next… so, I'm willin' to do whatever it takes to win."

"No mercy?"

" _Nope_ ," he answered, elongating the word as he shook his head slowly, his eyes glittering with mischievous intent.

With that the contest began, and it was indeed a ruthless match. Michaela pulled out all the stops and played her most clever moves and tactics, while Sully continued his attempts to distract her. When it appeared that she couldn't win on quick-wittedness only, she resolved to retaliate by turning his destabilizing strategy back on him. But… _how could she do that?_ Sully only had to look at her in a certain way, as if his eyes were undressing her, caressing her, for her to feel as warm and aroused as if he was effectively touching her. He only had to breathe a bit more heavily than he usually did, his nostrils flaring, to communicate the urgency of his desire. It was also in the way his fingers manipulated the chess pieces to move them – slow and careful, yet confident and deliberate. Or maybe it was her own desire that was coloring her perceptions… oh how she wished she could exude the same level of subtle seduction and make him dearly pay for what he was doing to her!

Actually, she had indeed been mirroring his behavior, casting smoldering looks at him and caressing the game pieces – yet she was naively unaware of how intensely provocative her gestures were coming across. So much so that, halfway through the game, while it seemed that neither one could really get the upper hand, Sully was nearing the end of his rope. Those eyes… _O those mesmerizing eyes of hers!_ And her scent, it seemed to pervade the room, that intoxicating mix of velvety skin and flowers warmed by a summer sun. His lips ached to kiss the graceful lines of her throat framed so perfectly by the fine lace and silk! His eyes were repeatedly drawn to the shadowy valley of her breasts, barely noticeable above the rather demure neckline of her gown. Each time she bent forward to move a piece and they became slightly more pronounced, he would swallow unconsciously.

The final straw was when she removed the pins out of her bun and shook her long tresses loose. He gulped, as entranced by the glorious sight of her hair as ever. _Talk 'bout not playin' fair!_ He lost his focus then, and Michaela took full advantage of his distraction. In three quite aggressive moves, she sacrificed her remaining rook and bishop, but took his queen and checkmated him with her knight.

"I won!" she exclaimed, laughing and very pleased with herself.

Sully raised his hands in mock surrender. He didn't particularly mind losing – at least the confounding game was finally over!

"So? What d'ya wanna do now?" he managed.

War raged within her, her senses painfully alert and her body tense with her hunger for him, while her mind reeled with all sorts of warnings, most of them making less and less sense as seconds ticked by…

 _Control yourself_.

Determinedly making her decision, she abruptly rose, though her knees felt like they were about to give way, and she moved to the bed. Turning down the covers, she patted the mattress invitingly.

"I ordered bed rest this morning, and bed rest is what you're getting, Mr. Sully," she directed, trying hard to keep her voice from sounding breathless or faltering.

"Sure," he answered with a strange lilt in his voice she didn't know what to make of – though her instinct guessed that he was up to something. Trying to quell her mounting anxiousness, she tried to give herself some countenance by smoothing out the bed sheets.

And then, before she even realized he had sneaked up behind her, she felt his hands groping for the clasps of her bodice.

"Sully!" she protested, albeit halfheartedly.

"I told ya, the only way you can keep me in bed today is to get under the covers with me…"

"But –"

"No buts. It ain't negotiable. Ya may have won the game… but since ya _cheated_ –"

"I most certainly did _not_!" she objected indignantly, turning to face him.

"Yeah you _did_! You're too dang beautiful, usin' them wiles, flirtin' with me like that. Man can't think straight…" he griped teasingly, since he had actually enjoyed every second of her flirtatious seduction.

The well-aimed compliment could have disarmed her, but her competitive self would not let her be placated that easily.

"And what were _you_ doing, over there? Weren't you trying to distract _me_?"

"Only to get back at ya… tell ya what, I get in bed, but you keep me company, and we call it –"

"Even…" they said together.

"Fine," she concluded primly, "On one condition – you must _rest_!"

 _We'll see about that,_ he thought, grinning to himself. When he reached again for the fastenings of her dress, she swatted at his hand lightly.

"I don't need your help to undress, _thank you_ , and you can change all by yourself, _over there_ ," she chided, pointing to the bathroom door. Her feeble attempts to reject temptation and put off the inevitable were even more amusing than frustrating, so he complied with her wishes without a fuss, knowing it would be only a matter of time before she surrendered. _At least he hoped so…_

* * *

Michaela was torn – _again_. She longed to join with Sully, to lie with him, skin to skin, kissing and caressing. Her husband seemed perfectly well now and an afternoon interlude would certainly not cause him any harm… _I've been feelin' kinda tense all mornin'… as you have… and there's only one thing I can think of that'd make us feel all better_ , his voice kept repeating over and over in her mind, exacerbating her frustration… Yet, images of him sprawled on the floor, moaning in pain, or retching with nausea, flashed through her memory. The doctor in her really wanted him to rest…

Earlier, she had considered giving him a massage, to get him to fully relax and maybe putting him into a much-needed sleep. But now, the mere thought of the feel of his warm, smooth skin under her fingers sufficed to send jolts of desire shooting through her, the _wife_ locked in furious battle with the _physician_.

Sully's reappearance just then, clad only in his cotton breeches, put paid to further inner deliberation.

"How come ya didn't change into somethin' more comfortable?" he remarked, striving to sound innocuous.

"Er… perhaps it's wiser…"

He went to her and, winding his arms tightly around her waist so that she couldn't escape, he allowed his lips to graze her cheek, whispering in her ear, "You mean ya prefer wearin' that chastity belt to bein' with me?"

Trapped in his arms as well as in the cage of fire of her unquenched desire, all she could do was to shake her head. All Sully had to do was to take her lips and all was lost. The long awaited kiss was like a lit match to their highly inflamed senses, and passion flared as hotly as a burning inferno after a dynamite explosion.

But Sully, being an expert powder man, knew better than to pour it on too heavily and let them be consumed on the spot. He unexpectedly released her, and resumed his earlier task of unfastening her clothes, noticing with satisfaction that this time not only didn't she try to stall him, she actually participated to the process.

Having become skilled at the removal of excessive feminine garments, within two minutes, Sully had her down to her camisole and pantaloons, but as he reached for the ribbons that held them in place, she gently seized his wrists to stop him.

"Sully…" she began, her eyes searching his.

"Somethin' on your mind?"

There was so much she needed to tell him, to show him, that she didn't know where to begin… how she appreciated his patience, his understanding, but also his persistence. How he was making her feel so cherished! But words and gestures seemed to her so shallow compared to the magnitude of her feelings.

Sully understood that she still needed time, and maybe a little help, to articulate her most intimate thoughts and needs. Maybe she would never fully overcome the puritan mentality she had known all her life, but he simply loved her too much to really mind, and if anything, her reserve endeared her to him all the more and made her bolder, more sensual side even more exciting. When she didn't answer him, he didn't press her, but gently took her hand, leading her to the bed onto which they laid down – or more accurately fell – kissing breathlessly.

After hours of teasing, delaying and struggling, their nerves were beyond frayed and aching with so much pent-up need that even Sully's last shreds of self-control crumbled, and Michaela was just as powerless to resist any longer. The last barriers of cotton that remained between them seemed to magically vanish and soon they were moving together as one, their fervor knowing no limit. And in the spur of those intense moments, her body reacted in yet another new way, writhing and arching into his to meet each of his thrusts, the rhythm of her movements synchronized with his – so perfectly, actually, that Sully was overcome with the need for release even sooner than he had dreaded. Fortunately he held out just long enough to bring his wife along with him to that golden, brightly lit place where the only thing that existed any more was the trinity formed by two lovers and their pleasure – which reached such an intensity that, for a while, they remained silent, their breathing still reduced to a shallow panting, their eyes locked as if transfixed in absolute adoration.

It did take some time for them to regain their sense of reality. Michaela's first lucid thought was that they had done exactly what she had deemed too premature and tiring for him so early after the crisis he had suffered. The frown that creased her forehead wasn't lost on Sully, and he had no trouble guessing what it meant. Tenderly, he nuzzled her neck, cheek and temple, and smiled softly at her, deeply moved by her concern.

"Ya don't gotta worry anymore, Dr. Mike," he said, unable to resist a bit more teasing and also hoping she would see the truth of his words through his light-hearted tone. "Told ya my wife could take care of me just fine. See?" he extended his arm with a flourish, "I was all tense, and some _good_ lovin' from her made me all better!"

For a few seconds, Michaela couldn't answer, as she processed the meaning of what he was saying. As to drive the nail home, Sully added, "Sometimes, love is the best remedy."

Returning his smile at last, she wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer for a kiss.

"I can certainly concur with that!"


	15. No Charge

The afternoon was a lazy one, as they stayed in bed until it was close to dinner time, taking a well-deserved nap, then waking up to one another's adoring kisses. Still very much under the influence of the euphoria from their earlier loving, Michaela was in no state to think of anything but _him_ , do anything but bask fully in the sensations engendered by his hands roaming leisurely all over her skin, by their mouths coming together repeatedly in long, slow, deep kisses… The physician in her had completely receded, pacified for the time being.

Therefore, she agreed readily when Sully suggested ordering their supper from room service rather than dressing up again to return to the dining room. What a waste of time it then seemed to her, to have to put on all those constricting garments, when she could spend it lying close to him and feeling his flesh pressed to hers!

The lacy negligee got some use again that night, much to their mutual delight. Sully had pulled it out from the wardrobe with a pleading pout and a mischievous spark in his eyes, and she just couldn't refuse him this little treat. So, as soon as they finished their meal, they went back to feasting on love and desire. Tasting their mutual passion on each other's lips and tongues, they drank endlessly of one another's essence until they were both fully intoxicated. They were kissing so passionately at one point that they might as well have already been one, with no need to go any further to seek fulfillment. Never in their wildest dreams could either Michaela or Sully have imagined one could experience such a level of intimacy and pleasure in kissing. Had they not been so deeply immersed in their sensations, they might have been frightened by its undeniable and quite addictive power.

Eventually, Sully brought himself fully to his wife, while neither of them had any inkling of the passage of time. It didn't matter. A little while later, their needs finally satisfied, Michaela was the one to gently caress and lull her husband to sleep. As she protectively watched over him, she wondered if, when _he_ had been the one to watch _her_ fall asleep, he had felt that mixture of contentment, tenderness, gratitude, and so much more that was hard to precisely define. All she knew was it felt positively wonderful.

Smiling, she closed her eyes as she nestled against his chest, and soon fell into a deep, sated sleep.

* * *

_Friday May, 27th, 1870_

It was very early when Michaela awoke to the first rays of light filtering through the lacy curtains. After a few seconds, her heart sped up as the realization hit her: a week before – _seven days!_ – she had spent her last night alone and roused to an overwhelming mix of excitement, such happiness she had felt close to delirious… and nerves. A mere week before, she had touched the unused pillow on her bed imagining Sully lying by her side the following morning, and all mornings to come. How thrilling the thought had been, until she realized the real thing was even better.

Next to her, her husband was still sleeping soundly. She was so glad he had completely recovered from that worrisome migraine, and that he seemed more at peace than she had seen him in a while. She dearly hoped he was finally getting rest as much as well-deserved peace of mind. Yet, she remained cautious, she didn't want to fool herself into believing all the wounds were healed so fast and easily, and she knew she'd better brace herself for possible reoccurrences…

She refrained from reaching out to tenderly brush away a lock that had fallen across his forehead, and rose from the bed as quietly as she could. She certainly didn't want to wake him up, when he was finally getting the sleep she, as a doctor, had deemed indispensable. Her lips curled into a half smile when she realized she had let him charm her into delaying the prescribed rest.

She went into the bathroom to perform her morning ablutions. There, she took time to really examine herself. The reflection was still very much hers, and yet it felt as if the mirror, by some kind of magic, was giving whoever was standing in front of the washstand a sort of aura. How strange to feel so different, and to look still the same, and yet metamorphosed at the same time! Did she get that impression because of how she had been feeling the past week? Or was it obvious to anyone else? She wished she could ask Sully, but then she feared her question would sound puerile, even to him.

A mere week before, the night before their wedding, she had been such a nervous wreck, despite the joint efforts of her sisters _and_ Dorothy to assure her that she had nothing to worry about – indeed, despite her own self adjurations that, no matter what happened, she would soon be Sully's wife, and he would be her husband… Perhaps it had been the magnitude of the potential changes in the dynamics of their relationship that had unnerved her. Had she been younger, she may not have dwelt that much on what it would mean to go from years of being on her own to sharing her life's days _and_ nights – to _sleep_ with a man. Taking in Charlotte's children had been such a huge adjustment, and yet, over time, they had become a family. They had adapted.

Looking at herself now, she realized that she was adapting to this new step in her life fairly well. This gave her hope and confidence. She felt reassured that, once they returned to Colorado Springs and really started their life together, balancing their jobs and their responsibilities both as parents and members of the community, they would manage – and if… _when_ they got pregnant, they would happily welcome a new child into their life. She wondered for a moment whether her rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes meant more than just her being happy and fulfilled, or if it meant something else? _No, it's too early yet… only one short week, for goodness' sake_ , she reminded herself, squaring her shoulders and fighting the strong urge to hang onto any sign that might indicate she was indeed already expecting…

Once clean and dressed, she returned to the bedroom. Sully was still slumbering and had not even moved from his previous position, his right arm still flung out across her spot as if to beckon her to come back. Again she wavered between being his wife, and being his doctor. One urged her to let him rest as much as possible, while the other demanded she resume her earlier place in bed, in his arms. Where she truly belonged.

Scanning the room for something to occupy herself, her eyes fell onto several items. The discarded, empty plates from their dinner made her think that maybe she could go downstairs for breakfast… _no, he might wake up while I'm away. I want to be here when he does so that I can be assured he is truly recovered and well..._ The small pile of books – _Why not?_ She tiptoed to his nightstand and reached out to pick up the first one, but recognition of the cover made her hand stop in mid-air. _Leaves of Grass… Walt Whitman!_ Though Sully had cajoled her into sharing the poet's bold, sometimes blunt words a couple of times, she still felt a bit unsure… and, as he had so astutely pointed out, afraid of her own reactions _hearing_ them, let alone reading them _herself_ …

Another object, next to the books, caught her attention – the lavender oil vial. She had left it there when Sully had had the migraine, in case it might be needed again, and she had also thought of using it for a long, relaxing massage. She picked it up, her lip caught between her teeth as she tried to think of how to propose a massage therapy to him and when. _Tonight, maybe?_ She cast a glance at him, remembering his reaction when she had massaged his legs after his beating… and then, that time when he had sprained his ankle – their talk, and their kiss in front of the fire – such a tender moment between them… Now, she wondered how it would feel to both of them. _Can it remain a mere therapeutic procedure? Or will it be irremediably tinged with our attraction to each other?_

As she risked a second glance, she realized with a small start that he was awake and watching her intently.

"Mornin'," he crooned, his voice sounding so incredibly tender that it felt as if it reached inside her and caressed her very soul. Readily, she perched her hip on the edge of the bed and leaned over for a kiss.

"Good morning. How are you feeling?" she asked, her voice equally soft as she finally indulged in the loving gesture of combing her fingers through his hair.

"Never better. I don't think I _ever_ slept this good," he answered, his easy smile confirming his words. His arm came round her lower back and he slid closer, propping himself on his elbow. "Thank you," he added. There was still some of his ever-present winning mischievousness in his tone and expression, but above that, she discerned earnest gratitude. She bestowed upon him one of her half grins, and again, gave him a sweet kiss.

"No charge," she whispered as she pulled back. She didn't dare prolong the kiss, remembering how she had felt the evening before, when they had kissed for what had seemed like hours – she could still feel the delicious sting of those kisses on her slightly chafed lips. It had felt like an addiction, as if his mouth fused with hers was the only thing keeping her alive and whole. It was quite awe-inspiring to glean such a feeling of oneness when making love. But kissing? _Just kissing…?_

"What were ya thinkin' just now, lookin' at that bottle?" he asked, interrupting her wandering thoughts and unwittingly bringing them back to the matter at hand – so to speak. She swallowed, suddenly shy about bringing up the subject, as well as impatient with herself for such unwarranted prudery. She had not hesitated before, so why now? If anything, being married should make things much less ambiguous. She had no reason to keep thinking of the what-ifs, to fear such physical contact might lead to something more intimate she – _they_ – wouldn't be able to control. Now – especially now, during their honeymoon – was the time, _of all times,_ to allow themselves to get carried away. For the last couple of days, the physician in her had been battling with the wife… maybe it was time the two reconciled.

"Ahem…" she paused, clearing her throat. "It's just that yesterday, I thought that… that is –" _Oh, come on, out with it!_ "That a massage would help you relax, and… but –"

"You got sidetracked?" he provided cheekily. "That's too bad, I would've loved gettin' that _massage_ …" He lifted his eyebrows suggestively, clearly meaning that it wasn't the relaxing kind of massage he had in mind.

"Oooh!" she exclaimed, giving his shoulder a light shove. He retaliated by seizing her wrists and, for a minute or so, they wrestled playfully, laughing heartily. Then Sully made a pained grimace and cried out, "Ow!"

Michaela froze. "What? What's wrong?" she fretted.

"My back… musta pulled a muscle…"

Michaela then caught the customary twinkle of mischief in her husband's eyes, and realized what he was doing. She refrained from scolding him for causing her needless worry and played along instead.

"Well… I can give you some willow bark tea… and a warm cloth to apply on the painful area," she offered primly, trying to hold back a stubborn giggle that wanted to burst forth. Still, Sully had just given her the perfect opening, and she was glad to be able to please him with something for which, at least, she didn't need directions. "Or I could give you that massage – if you'd be so kind as to lie on your stomach, Mr. Sully…"

Though he found her velvet-soft tone of voice so stirring that all he wanted was to pull her down to lie next to him and proceed with a proper _good morning_ , he complied, racking his brain for something, _anything_ , to prevent his fantasies from running wild and instinct taking over. He was sure she would have gone along, but he truly wanted her to learn how to communicate her desire more straightforwardly. After what happened the day before, he figured that she still needed him to give her enough time and space to reach the point where she just could no longer deny herself. But that proved near impossible for, as soon as he felt her gentle, cool hands just below his rib cage and heard her speak again, his body instantly reacted.

"Where does it hurt?" she inquired in her best clinical tone.

"Huh… just where your hands are…" _Yep – right there_. He wondered how on earth he was going to hold out if he was already this aroused by her proximity and the sole contact of her palms onto his lower back.

Her hands left him for a few seconds to return, gliding over his skin, oily and heavily scented with lavender. He allowed himself to delight in the skillful kneading of his muscles along his spine and be transported to a kind of heaven he had never known before. The massage was indeed efficiently relaxing, and before long he had fallen into a languid state, where sleep was beckoning him back. His mind felt as if it were swathed in a sort of erotic haze. Somewhere between consciousness and oblivion, he dreamed of a pair of magical hands that knew exactly where to touch him, how to entice him… adventurous and playful hands that dared explore and tantalize every part of him… expertly eking every nuance of pleasure out of his body… Tender, caring hands that knew him so well they would instantly find how to soothe his aching need...

Then his imagination drifted to another kind of softness – her wonderfully luminous, warm, fragrant skin, more luxuriantly plush than the richest velvet, smoother and more delicate than the finest silk. As her scent intoxicated him further, leaving him ecstatically bedazzled, the resultant daze prompted a few verses from Whitman to echo in his mind – _You sea! … I behold from the beach your crooked inviting fingers… I believe you refuse to go back without feeling of me… We must have a turn together… Cushion me soft… rock me in billowy drowse…_ Her fingers… feeling him… cushioning him… rocking him in the billowy drowse of sensual gratification…

Lazily, he craned his neck to take a look at his wife, as if assuring himself of the reality of her presence. She was still perched on the edge of the bed, the curve of her hip fitted into his.

"Feels good?" she asked with a loving smile while continuing her ministrations.

"Oh yeeeaaahhh," he could only utter in a blissful groan.

For the next twenty minutes, he thoroughly enjoyed what Michaela was doing to him – after his neck and back, she massaged his arms and legs – and though lethargy was pressing down on him, he was kept from drifting off by his acute awareness of her… and an idea that was slowly emerging from his foggy mind.

Little did he know the extent of the effect the massage was having on Michaela as well. It seemed to her that every single nerve ending of her hands tingled from contact with her lover's smooth, warm skin, and that every vibration followed a path straight to her womb, making it throb forcefully. Hazy images of barely articulated desires that were begging to be acknowledged swirled within her imagination and made her feel faint with dizziness. Still, she tried to ignore her own body's demands and concentrate on _his_ body, managing to maintain her focus long enough for her treatment to be effective.

As she finally concluded the massage, he slowly turned onto his back, and stretched luxuriously. Michaela couldn't help but compare him to a majestic lion, for, as much as he appeared relaxed, he still exuded the confident and commanding strength of the dominant male. Judd McCoy's words, _a living god at the zenith of his manhood_ , rang into her mind as her gaze dropped to his abdomen… her stomach fluttered and her breathing quickened as she sat there, transfixed by the hardened evidence of his powerful virility and the effect she had on him. She felt that very physical hunger for him gnawing at her core, fueled by the lingering sensation of his warm, firm body imprinted into her palms. Though she had used her medical knowledge to care for her husband, it had definitely been the lover who had touched him, deriving an unexpected, yet quite intense pleasure out of their contact. She realized, shocked, how driven by instinct – like an animal – she had been acting since they had consummated their marriage. Was she just some lustful creature, despicably wanton and only preoccupied with satisfying her bodily appetites? _No, certainly not_. She _loved_ Sully, he was her husband, and the passionate feelings he stirred in her were natural – and validated. All of _this_ was still very new to her, she reasoned, and she still had to learn how to channelize the tempestuous movements of her newly awakened sensuality.

Sully didn't know what could be weighing on her mind to prompt such a disconcerted expression on her features, when at the same time he was sure he recognized desire shining in her darkened, hooded eyes. Could her puritan conscience be returning to make her feel ashamed of enjoying their intimacy again?

Wishing to diffuse her uneasiness, he said merrily, "Thanks, Doc… how much do I owe ya?"

Startled, yet thankful for the interruption of her confusing train of thoughts, she repeated with a smile, "No charge."

She answered exactly as he had hoped. He sat up slowly, his face coming barely an inch from hers. "You _sure_?" he murmured.

His intense gaze, the unmistakable invitation in his suggestive tone and posture, and the tickle of his breath on her lips that were pleading for a passionate kiss, made her feel an instant, fierce urge to rise to the challenge. The need to push him back down on the bed and claim his mouth, then his body as her rightful payment lanced through her flesh, her desire so aggressive it frightened her. It was all she could do to shift uncomfortably and avert her face; afraid he would see and _know_.

He stopped her from rising from the bed by taking her hand and gently tugging on it.

"All right, your turn now…"

Michaela stared at him incredulously. "What do you mean?"

"What d'ya think I mean? I'm givin' you a massage, too," he explained as he scooted closer. He reached for the buttons of her blouse, but she stilled him, ill at ease.

"You… you don't have to," she protested, moved that he was proposing to return the favor, but not quite sure she could allow herself such a decadent treat. It wasn't as if she was in pain, or under a great amount of stress.

"Sure, but I _want_ to," he countered. Knowing Michaela like he did, how proud, independent yet generous she was, he could only guess that her hesitation was due to the fact that she was much more comfortable being on the giving end than the receiving one, not expecting anything in return for fear of feeling indebted to anyone – even to him. Her apology after their fight immediately after their return from Boston, when she told him she'd never had to rely on anyone before, came to mind. He also knew she sometimes needed sensible arguments to accept letting down her guard. It didn't take him long to find one. "'Sides, I need ya to teach me how to do it right. Dontcha think it might come in handy when you're expectin', and you got cramps in your legs, maybe? Or if your back hurts? Mmh?" he reasoned as his hand slid up her thigh and settled at the curve of her waist, his thumb caressing her stomach in tiny circles.

She half-relented then, swiveling around to present her back to him and lifted her hands up as if about to knead imaginary shoulders: "Well that's easy," she began, barely able to conceal the nervous tremolo in her voice by keeping her professional manner. "Tension usually sits between the na –"

"You ain't gonna take off your clothes first?"

"Ah… huh – oh… well," she stammered, blushing slightly. She wondered whether he really had the massage in mind, or if it was just an excuse for him to get her to undress. Her instinct told her where all this was heading, and the pulsing yearning deep within returned with a vengeance. There was no escaping what was going to happen…

Her back still to him, she removed her blouse with a bit of shy clumsiness, and then hesitated a few seconds before unbuttoning her skirt. Was it really necessary to take off everything…?

As he noticed her tense posture and indecisive movements, Sully realized he had to take things over from then on. He stood up and reached for the discarded cotton breeches on the floor by his nightstand, and slipped them on, with the hope she would see that his intentions were – for the most part – honorable. He wanted her to relax.

"Here, let me," he told her as he knelt before her, removing her shoes, and then her stockings in the most unassuming way he could. Though the temptation to caress her legs in a sensual and seductive way was quite strong, he refrained from doing so. Any lovemaking would have to wait at least until he had evened out the score. He wanted to be able to care for her as lovingly and efficiently as she did him. With this in mind, he took hold of one of her feet and firmly pressed his thumbs into the sole, moving in circles. The result was immediate as she instantly sighed, and closed her eyes in obvious relief and pleasure.

"How's that? Good?"

"Mmmh, oh yes, that's perfect," she breathed. "I won't have to teach you anything, you're a natural with this."

The compliment, and seeing and feeling her finally relax under his touch, made Sully smile broadly, pleased with himself. He thoroughly kneaded each of her feet; registering what movements she seemed to find the most enjoyable.

He looked up to ask her if he could massage her legs, too, and just forgot how to speak for a moment. She was some sight, sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning against the post she was weakly clutching for support. With one of the straps of her camisole hanging low onto her arm, her skirt and lacy petticoat bunched up to her lap, her eyes more veiled than ever, she appeared to him as the muse of a poet that would surely write the most lyrical, yet very possibly the most scandalously passionate verses ever written. He wondered what the poets he knew of, Whitman, Shakespeare, Herrick, and others renowned for their odes to their mistresses, would have come up with had they ever been in his shoes and met a woman like Michaela. The feelings she stirred in him were so powerful, he simply had no words for them. Even if he were to read and commit by heart every love poem ever composed, still he was no poet, and certainly didn't feel up to writing the kind of homage she deserved. He could only repeat over and over how much he loved her, and show her by being the most devoted husband, and the most fervent lover.

Her voice brought him back from his wistful musings.

"Thank you Sully, that was wonderful…" She let out a small giggle. "Maybe you shouldn't have done that, actually, because I'm afraid that I may ask for a foot massage quite often in the future!"

"Ask away, I'll be happy to do that for ya," he assured her, smiling lovingly. When he saw her reach for her stockings to put them back on, he stilled her. "Hey, we ain't finished yet. Gotta do your back, now."

She opened her mouth to protest, about to argue that the foot massage had been enough of a treat already, but he drew near and cleverly silenced her with a long, slow kiss, the kind of which he knew would weaken her resistance.

"C'mon, get outta these and lie down," he instructed, trying his best to imitate her when she was being bossy. He watched her blush as she modestly removed her skirt, petticoat, and camisole, and lay down on her stomach, her pantaloons still on.

Sully thought that this was an excellent occasion to show her that they could be naked – or quite close to it – together in the same room without it necessarily leading to intimacy, _and_ that he could control himself – no matter how difficult it was. Especially as her present posture was too much of a reminder of a certain day where he had been privy to a forbidden sight: that creamy, perfect, smooth back of hers, drenched in perspiration. He had watched, mesmerized, as Emily and Olive had sponged down her feverish skin, and in the midst of his fear that she might not be strong enough to fight the grippe, he had realized with a jolt of guilt he was experiencing the last thing he had ever expected to feel. _Physical desire_. Or to put it more crudely – _lust_ – intensely powerful and downright primeval. Not only had it been totally inappropriate given the circumstances, but there was still the part of him that wouldn't allow him to stop mourning Abagail. Yet, the lady doctor's slender, flushed body, along with her febrile sighs and moans, had unwittingly summoned suggestive images of how she might look and sound when fully abandoned in a lover's embrace. _His_ embrace… one day, maybe…? He had then shaken himself, convinced that it would never happen.

And a little over two years later, here they were, married – the most natural outcome of the irresistible bond that had been woven between their hearts and souls from their first intense interaction in the mercantile.

Her back hadn't lost any of its appeal, and now he could explore its delicious, rich geography to his leisure. He mimicked her previous actions, warming a few drops of oil in his palms, and then set out to work first on her nape and shoulders. He perceived the twitch of a repressed flinch when he cupped her shoulder blades, but the tension there soon melted as he applied light pressure along her spine, and she soon sighed again.

"You can press a little harder, you know…" she suggested with a sleepy drawl.

"I don't wanna hurt ya."

"You won't," she assured, before instructing, "Pinch the muscles harder… just a little harder… mmmh, yes, just like that… perfect."

For a few minutes, he managed to focus on simply returning her earlier attentions, as he concentrated on his task and controlling the strength of his movements. But once he had gotten the hang of it, he found himself once again entranced with the feel of her skin. He couldn't get enough of that silken sensation, which was infinitely better than any fantasy – no matter how vivid it had been. Her warm womanly flesh seemed to beg of him to be touched and kissed and breathed in – its unique scent could alone arouse him to a fever pitch. It had haunted him so many times before they were married, as much as her eyes and her overall beauty had.

They had been married a full week already; one might have thought that the excitement and wonder of the first encounters would have faded, and that they would already be falling into a companionable familiarity. Well, they were not. The sense of belonging he constantly experienced with her was so powerful that he almost felt as if they had been together since the beginning of time – as if they had once formed a unique body, with a unique soul. He smirked as he remembered telling Michaela about the Cheyenne legend, that day early in their relationship when he had taken her fishing. Little had he known then how prophetic it would prove to be!

A thrill ran through him as he imagined the two of them, years later, still passionately in love and needing each other… like newlyweds. He certainly couldn't fathom ever getting bored with a woman like Michaela – unlike many men he knew who so often complained about their wives and ended up straying. The mere thought that she might stop loving him made his blood run cold. That made him all the more determined to be the best husband he could for her.

Michaela's eyes were closed again, her long lashes fluttered and a blissful smile hovered on her lips as she finally allowed herself to fully indulge in his ministrations, occasionally moving back against his hands. She wondered if her massage had felt that wonderful to her husband, because if she hadn't managed to bring him to such a heavenly level of beatitude – well, she would have to try again. He certainly hadn't needed much coaching, and it was all she could do to keep the vocalization of her state of well-being to a few sighs, when her mind was literally whooping, "Oh, yes! Yes! YES!"

It seemed that he had kneaded away just about every knot of tension in her back, knots that had been there for so long that she felt a strange but not unpleasant emptiness in their place. All those times she had had to remain composed, for her patients or her children's sakes, the many feuds with her mother and sisters, her sorrows… unbeknownst to her, they had all accumulated to form a steely armor under which she could shield herself when times were tough. But she didn't need that cold, stiff protection anymore. Sully was there now, and as long as he would stand by her side, she would feel safe. So it no longer mattered that she was stripped bare of all her old defenses before him in the privacy of their bedroom. She would be building new ones with him. Together they would be invincible…

Shifting a little, she released another sigh. Then suddenly, she froze. His fingers were hooked into the waistband of her bloomers, slowly easing them down to uncover her buttocks and thighs. Then she felt his hair fall softly onto the small of her back… and lower, the light scrape of his morning whiskers… and the smooth softness of his lips, branding a lingering kiss at the base of her spine. She shuddered violently, overcome with a feeling she couldn't quite name. All of her senses fired up at once in response to his provocative gesture, while at the same time she felt uncomfortably guilty to be that much aroused.

He then cupped her buttocks in his strong hands, and obviously enjoyed fondling them – his soft, satisfied growl was one she had come to recognize. She herself could barely believe how pleasurable it all felt, and she bit her lip, barely succeeding in reducing to a slight whimper the rather loud, guttural moan that threatened to force its way up from deep within her chest.

She swallowed nervously when she heard him chuckle. Was he mocking her? Had she reacted inadequately?

"What's so funny?" she squeaked shyly, risking a glance at him.

After a few seconds, he met her gaze to answer, and Michaela's eyes widened in surprise, as she saw him… blushing!

"Remember the day we met? When I boosted ya up on Bear?" He queried, a bit like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. In a flash, she pictured how he must have looked as a child, before his life was turned upside down by tragedies. That look must have been his mother's undoing many a time, as it certainly was for her.

Still, not sure what he was getting at, she only nodded.

"Well… I was just thinkin'… the first part of ya I ever touched was that pretty bottom!" He pressed two more kisses on top of each of the soft mounds still cradled in his hands.

For a moment, she could only stare at him, dumbfounded, at a complete loss as to how to respond.

Realizing how flustered she was, he regretted bringing up what was probably an embarrassing memory for her. When she averted her face, he crawled up on the bed to be eye level with her.

Placing a finger under her chin, he gently turned her face back toward him, so that she would see the sincerity of his apology in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, 'Chaela… it came out all wrong. I shouldna said that."

"No, that… that's all right." She shrugged slightly and smiled sheepishly. "It's the truth after all, you _did_ put your hands there," she admitted in a small voice.

He kissed her forehead lovingly, more appreciative than ever of her efforts to overcome her remaining inhibitions.

"Guess I kinda spoiled the mood…"

"The mood?"

"Yeah… I wanted to show ya that we could be close, naked, and enjoy bein' together without havin' to make love, see? And I wanted to really pay ya back for takin' such good care of me, not just for the past few days… but from the beginnin'…for all the many ways ya've healed me..."

She propped herself on her elbows, and softly pecked his lips. "I did it out of love for you, I wasn't expecting any payment… I owe you my life, Sully! How could I not care for you to the best of my abilities?" She kissed him again, a little longer and deeper. Catching her breath, she added: "The massage you gave me was wonderful. I… I never imagined it could be this relaxing… If anything, I should be the one to thank _you_ …"

"No charge," he replied teasingly, smiling in that special, loving way of his, while his fingers traced a wayward path down her back, returning to her buttocks.

Her entire body bristled again with unadulterated desire, and suddenly she wondered why in the world she was holding anything of herself back from his loving attention. Throwing unneeded caution to the winds and moving herself closer, she fixed her eyes hungrily on the sensuous curve of his lips.

"You _sure_?" she asked, her voice deliberately sultry, in what she hoped was a fair imitation of his earlier remark.

Oh he loved it when she let out that carnal charm of hers… He had always known it was there, hidden beneath the genteel veneer of her Boston upbringing, since that day when she told him after they had returned from Harding's mine, "Why don't we… _call it even_?" He was as surprised and delighted now as he had been then. "I'm sure you can convince me to reconsider," he challenged back cheekily.

She rolled onto her side, and pulled him into her embrace, kissing him more aggressively than she had ever done before, even surprising herself. Meanwhile, her hands traveled caressingly down his chest toward the waistband of his breeches. There were but a trace of hesitation in her movements as she untied the strings and pushed the garment downward, and barely noticeable shyness when she took hold of his buttock to squeeze it firmly. Had Sully not been so powerfully aroused, he would have wondered if he hadn't fallen asleep and wasn't presently reliving his earlier fantasy.

"All right then… how much do I owe you?" she panted when she eventually broke off the kiss.

His response was another low growl as he nudged her onto her back and slipped himself inside her, reveling in her soft moan, the unmistakable pleasure on her face, and how eagerly her body welcomed his.

Their plans might have not turned out the way they had expected – but considering the pleasurable outcome, neither cared one bit, as they had more… _pressing_ … things on their minds.


	16. Deeper Meaning

By midmorning, Michaela and Sully were still in bed, spooned tightly together, a pleasant tipsiness still suffusing their bodies from their recent amorous transports. The languid weakness had not fully abated yet, though their breathing and heartbeats had almost returned to normal rhythms. They were still at that point where it was difficult to tell whether their need for each other had been satiated, or if they could give it an encore.

Michaela cast a glance at the timepiece on the mantel. It was a little after half past ten. She made a wry grimace and sighed. So much for insisting on Sully needing proper nourishment only a day before!

"Somethin' wrong?" he breathed in her ear.

"We missed breakfast… again," she pointed out hoarsely.

Sully chuckled. "Don't know 'bout _you_ , but I gotta say…" he pressed himself all the closer, squeezed the soft flesh of her hip and buried a long, sensuous kiss into the curve of her neck, "I don' feel like I _missed_ anythin'."

A few well-aimed touches, kisses and words were all it took to rekindle their passion. Michaela couldn't do anything to stop the warmth of desire from washing over her again, compounded by the perception of his renewed arousal. She turned her head just as he inclined his to claim her lips, while his hand continued to fondle her teasingly, purposefully avoiding too direct touches, but still managing to bring her to that thrilling state in which nothing else but being with him mattered. When he shifted to cup her nape more firmly and deepen the kiss, she instead broke it off and eyed him coyly, placing her fingers to his lips to stall him – only momentarily.

"But aren't you hungry?" she queried, though she could easily predict his answer given his ardent stare.

"Starvin'," he growled. Nibbling at her fingers, and then deliberately suckling on them while still intently holding her gaze, he waited for her response to this new provocation.

It came instantly. Her breath caught, only to be released in a shuddering sigh as she murmured his name. The sensation of his tongue swirling around her fingertips affected her in ways she couldn't even begin to fathom, let alone explain. It reached deep, so deep inside, into that part of her nature her Puritan upbringing had meant to tame, even suppress… only to fail, as it seemed to have gone feral, liberated by its mate. _Her_ mate. And _mating_ was exactly what her body craved right at that moment, her need so urgent that, short of her saying the words out loud, every nerve, every cell was begging, "Take me! Please! NOW!"

It would have been easy enough for Sully to rely on her obvious physical reaction, her breath coming quick, her skin flushed and moist, and that lost, pleading look in her eyes… to join with her without further ado, and simply enjoy another encounter. But he found himself held back by a nagging doubt. He wanted to make sure his wife truly reciprocated his desire rather than just submitting to it. Her earlier reluctance and resurfacing self-consciousness made him wonder whether she was still forcing herself to yield to his advances because she wanted so much to please him – of this at least he was sure, because he knew her so well. The one time she had overtly rebuffed his advances had been out of her concern for his health. But what about all the other times? Had he let himself be fooled by her rather enthusiastic abandon…? _No, 'course not!_ Michaela, true and guileless to a fault, would never come up with such deceitful tricks. If anything, considering her education, she could have just lain there and endured the _wifely duty_ quite passively. But she didn't. She _couldn't_. She could _not_ lie, and her body didn't lie either, not with that sensuality that kept simmering under the surface, and would sometimes literally burst out of her – like it had the previous night…

 _Oh, those kisses of hers!_ He had told her she was "good at kissin'", for lack of appropriate words to describe how he felt when her lips moved in such perfect unison with his – when her sweet-tasting tongue met his in a long mating dance. When he thought back to how tentative their first kisses had been in the early days of their relationship, he felt sure that her notion of "being carried away" with her first fiancé couldn't possibly match the heat of some of their own encounters, even prior to their engagement. He doubted Michaela had reacted so skittishly to David's kisses, which must have seemed much less threatening to her than his. The thought prompted him to inwardly smirk: with no chaperone in the close vicinity to ensure they were _behavin'_ and that magnetic force that constantly flowed between them, any contact had always felt dangerously stimulatin' – even to the more experienced man he was. It had been sheer torture for him to hold back, increasingly so as she had grown more comfortable with their closeness. With each kiss, her lips had distilled a subtle elixir, making him feel incredibly alive while at the same time captivating him more and more, until he knew for certain he'd never break free – not that he'd ever want to.

His uncertainty quelled for the moment, he determined that his task was now to help her overcome her main inhibition, which was unquestionably the ability to put into words what she wanted, how, when… where. Since she was so intent on pleasing him, he'd have to show her how much he would appreciate her enthusiasm all the more should it be expressed more spontaneously… and _verbally_. He knew he would have to tread carefully on this path, one step at a time, but he was confident that they would both benefit from the success of this particular endeavor, judging by the good presage of the piquant sense of humor she had started showing.

And right then, he was presented with a perfect occasion to try and prompt her to articulate her desires. "What 'bout _you_? Gettin' hungry?" he teased, grinning roguishly.

She reached up and clamped her hand behind his head to bring him closer. Just as they were about to kiss anew, she uttered throatily, "Famished!"

"Good answer," he murmured, before giving in to their mutual need. As their mouths met and assailed each other's ravenously, he tightened his hold, one arm securely wound around her torso while his other hand stroked the back of her thigh repeatedly with a gentle, gradual pressure to push it forward, watchful of any sign of resistance or discomfort from her. She did stiffen briefly the moment she felt him begin to guide himself inside her and he froze, unsure of saying or doing anything that might interrupt the magic. Yet, the tension in her body eased as suddenly as it had occurred. She increased the intensity of her kiss and even went as far as nudging herself backward a little – just enough to let him know he could go on.

He let go of her lips and muffled his growl of pleasure against her neck as he fully joined with her. She responded with one of those high-pitched moans she would let out whenever he did something she found particularly delightful. _How I love this woman,_ he thought, already unable to utter more than her name in a breathless rasp. He might not be able to see her expression, but he could tell from the way she accorded her movements to his, from how she reached behind to encouragingly caress his hip and thigh, that she was enjoying this rather exciting new adventure. Nevertheless, he shifted a little and turned her face back up toward him, so he could watch in awe her beloved countenance displaying so candidly her pleasure. This time he also found something new – there was an unusual fieriness in her eyes. Daring, even. Could she be feeling the same raw, untamed emotion, the same animal instinct that was presently surging through his loins and making him thrust forward increasingly faster and deeper?

Michaela was, indeed, feeling an unprecedented state of arousal. Their earlier activities, from Sully's sensuous massage to their subsequent lovemaking, had left her body highly sensitized, so that her husband's present loving manipulations stirred her in an entirely new way. As shocking as his unexpected audaciousness had felt at first, she had nonetheless immediately responded to the new situation, her body instinctively synchronizing its movements with his…

Since she had come to Colorado, she had a few times witnessed animals coupling in the wild while she and Sully were hiking in the woods. Back then, it had made her feel rather uneasy and flustered – even embarrassed – but now that she was finding _herself_ in this primal position…

 _Oh, the sensations!_ When he had entered her, she had experienced a kind of pleasure so sharp it was actually like an exquisite pain, and she had unconsciously whimpered. A part of herself, heretofore ignored because unknown, awakened and blossomed with the new stimulation, as if another dimension of her womanhood was opening up deeper within… how _breathtaking_ indeed! She felt as if she were stepping outside of herself, mindless while acutely conscious of every single sensation, as she responded with animal-like passion to his movements. How incredible that, each time they had appeared to achieve the utmost pleasure in their lovemaking, it seemed there was room to climb even higher! She felt him shift and turn her face toward his, but too caught up in the moment, she didn't even think of trying to demurely mask her reactions. All she wanted was for him to keep going… _faster_ … _deeper_ …

Spurred on by her blazing look, Sully cupped one of her breasts, giving it a firm, possessive squeeze and teasing the nipple relentlessly. His other hand sneaked down her side, lingered a moment on her hip as his thrusts increased in depth, and eventually reached her warmest, most sensitive place with confident, precise caresses. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, struggling to contain the vocal evidence of her pleasure that was certain to be a loud, absolutely unladylike shriek. White spots, like stars, appeared behind her eyelids as a more powerful outbreak of pleasure rippled through her – a tidal wave gaining momentum, stealing her breath and voice altogether.

If in other circumstances, they both would have preferred a less frenzied and tenderer union, this time they mutually let themselves get fully swept away, spinning out together toward the farthest universe – far, far away. Urgency, not to mention the provocative edge of their positioning, gave a slightly forbidden flavor to their passionate encounter and it resulted in yet another mind-blowing conclusion. It was so intense that they both nearly lost all consciousness with the onslaught of pleasure, a numbing darkness encroaching upon their senses as they weakly slumped against each other in its aftermath. They barely had enough energy left to share one last grateful kiss, and mere seconds later they had both drifted off.

* * *

They awoke from their nap a little past lunch time, finally feeling hungrier for food than for each other. Practicality took precedence over Michaela's reflections upon what had transpired between them in the morning as they hurriedly washed, dressed and rushed to the nearest café before it closed for the afternoon. They could have ordered another meal to be brought to their room, but both tacitly agreed that, after spending almost three days straight inside, it was high time they'd ventured out.

"Feels good to see the sun again," commented Sully cheerfully, as they strolled along the streets aimlessly after their rather late lunch. Michaela looked up at him, her stomach fluttering worriedly. Did he mean that he was already feeling cooped up after only one week of being married to her? _Don't be silly, now_ , she reasoned with herself. Sully was right after all, this sunny, slightly breezy weather was certainly enjoyable. The small smile she saw on his relaxed features was one of deep inner peace and contentment, such as the one that suffused her being as well. Her husband appeared to be very much back to his healthy, serene self, and she dared hope as fulfilled as she was presently feeling. The light, tingling warmth of a blush made its reappearance on her cheeks as she recalled the very _fulfilling_ times they had shared a few hours before. She didn't feel the slightest bit sinful anymore, as she would have if not for Sully's various shows of affections, all the times he would kiss her hand, her forehead, caress her cheek or hair – and right before they left their suite, he had hugged her tenderly and told her "I love you" in his so uniquely genuine way. She had never dared imagine that a love such as theirs could actually exist, yet here she was, living out the modest yet infinite dream for which every girl and woman of the world longed.

As the memories of all they had shared in a week flittered through her mind, the true significance of the word engraved in her wedding band came to her. Her eyes stung with mounting tears as something incredibly powerful rose and swelled within her chest, her heart so full of love, elation and gratitude that she wanted all at once to laugh, weep, dance, shout – and _sing_. A song of absolute, everlasting happiness was beating out in rhythm with her pulse. The Cheyenne were right, true love was indeed making one's heart sing.

Glancing her way, Sully noticed the shimmer of unshed tears in her eyes, and stopped in his tracks, taken aback.

"Hey, hey… what is it?" he asked gently, as he cupped her face in both hands, his thumb sweeping at the tiny tear that had rolled discreetly down her cheek. "What's wrong? Tell me."

At that moment, Michaela was too choked up to utter a single word, her emotions rising to yet another level because of his sweet concern. For once, Sully misinterpreted her silence and started dreading that he might have pushed the "lesson" a little too far that morning, and that he had embarrassed her, maybe even…

Suddenly dry-mouthed, he swallowed, whispering, "I hurt ya?"

Michaela realized what he meant, and despite the tears that were falling now in earnest, she smiled broadly, shaking her head.

"No," she managed to squeak. The words she had once told him _I never thought I could be this happy… I love you so much,_ seemed even more meaningful now, but she couldn't utter them right at that moment. She could only convey her feelings by throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him with an almost desperate intensity. Even more puzzled, Sully pulled back, trying to read her expression and demeanor.

It was a very rare occurrence for Michaela to become so emotional with no obvious reason that he could pinpoint right away. She did have a very vulnerable side she would only allow him to see, or perhaps Dorothy, that came from letting herself care so much. The first time he had witnessed it was when they had huddled together inside a tipi, that time Brian had run away. He remembered how it had aroused his most protective instincts and reawakened his heart, when he had been sure he would never develop feelings for a woman again. Since they had embarked on their honeymoon, he had seen much more of the sweet, tender-hearted woman she truly was, rather than the indomitable mask she presented to the world. The main common denominator between the rather contrasting sides of her personality was, of course, her passionate streak.

But now, still puzzled, he searched her eyes for enlightenment.

"What is it?" he repeated.

"I just – I love you, Sully… so much!" she said in a broken voice.

Although deeply moved, because he realized it was the strength of her feelings that had overcome her, he chose to lighten the mood with a gentle barb.

"You sayin' you love me and you cry?"

She giggled and took out a lacy handkerchief from her reticule to dab dauntingly at her tears. She finally could articulate a bit more clearly, "These are happy tears – _very_ happy tears."

"Glad to hear that," he smiled softly "...and you _know_ I love _you_ just as much." Then with a teasing glint, he glanced both ways and wrinkled his nose joshingly, "Even though big boy like me ain't supposed to cry."

She only laughed more and a few last stray tears escaped from her eyes. Relieved, he planted a tender kiss at the corner of her mouth. Then, his arm wound around her waist and pressing her close, they slowly ambled together along the sandy path by the riverbank.

Their quite busy morning had somehow heightened their senses, so they enjoyed even more the outing in the balmy afternoon. Walking slowly, they shared sweet kisses and hugs now and then, in companionable silence, but with their hearts speaking to one another in their own unique language. The chorus of birds had never sounded so enchanting, the sun had never felt so deliciously warm on their faces, and the various fragrances from the trees and flowers that were floating around in the gentle Spring breeze had never smelled so sweet. It was, indeed, a beautiful day.

* * *

They came back to the hotel for supper, yet opted for a quiet meal in the tea room rather than in the grand hall, so that they wouldn't need to go up and change again. They would have to dress up the following evening to attend the piano recital, and Michaela didn't want Sully to feel constricted in his stylish, but obviously uncomfortable costume too often, no matter how much she appreciated the effort – and of course, his looks!

Then, they headed back to their room, almost unconsciously, as the need to be alone together, secluded from the rest of the world, was making itself known again. Making love again wasn't foremost on their minds, they only wanted complete privacy to savor their closeness to its fullest.

The night was still young, and the pinkish light of approaching dusk softly suffused their room. Sully opened one of the French windows and stepped out to the small balcony, soon joined by his wife. He automatically enfolded her in his arms, and together they swayed lightly, once again reveling in their sheer, indescribable happiness, and the peacefulness of the scenery.

The shrill call of a hawk to its mate suddenly broke the quiet, making the couple look up toward the sky. The two birds were engaged in an aerial courtship ballet, their silhouettes describing wide, graceful circles against the colorful evening sky backdrop.

"That's strange," Sully muttered as if to himself.

"What is?"

"Hawks are usually nestin' this time o' year, takin' care of their young."

"Maybe those two don't have any yet… maybe they've just met," Michaela ventured.

Sully let out a sheepish chuckle, and drew his gaze back to _his_ mate, humbled and amused at the same time. Who would have thought that a city girl like her – a _lady_ from back East – would one day be discussing with her husband the mating habits of raptors? And come up with that logical explanation before he did?

"You're probably right 'bout that…" he conceded willingly. "And just 'cause it's unusual, don't mean it's wrong," he added, regarding her pointedly. He was pleased to see his wife's eyes twinkle in understanding of his double-entendre. They kissed slowly and softly for quite a while as dusk rained its pastel lights down on them.

When they eventually parted, they were rather astonished to see that night had crept down on them, so absorbed they had been with one another.

"It's gettin' darker," Sully couldn't help but point out in a seductive whisper.

Michaela laughed softly, and found herself teasing back with a coy smile, her own voice dropping to a sultry contralto, "And _darker_ …"

He chuckled along with her, thinking that whoever might have overheard this little exchange would have been totally unaware of just how meaningful those particular few words were for them, and would always be from then on.

"C'mon, let's go back inside," he invited, his arm lovingly draped across her shoulders as they stepped toward the wide opened French window.


	17. Camerado

Sully led his wife to the sofa and made her sit, while he crouched at her feet. There was an expectant look in his eyes as he asked, "You tired?"

"Not really. Are you?"

"Nope." He smiled, caressing her hand and knee in silence, as if pondering something, then he stood up again and gave her shoulder the lightest squeeze to indicate she should stay where she was. Michaela wondered what he was up to as she watched him pick up one of the bedside lamps and the folded comforter at the end of their bed. A riot of butterflies burst in her stomach when she saw him pick up the top book on his nightstand. She remembered the last time they had read _Leaves of Grass_ together, and his promise to go through it again once they would be married. She felt silly for being so nervous, and decided that the flutter in her chest was one of anticipation rather than anxiety.

Soon they were reclined against the armrest of the settee, Michaela cozily settled between Sully's legs, her back nestled to his chest, and her head tucked under his chin. She allowed herself to relax in his embrace as he began reading, following the order of the tiny strips of paper tucked in between every few pages instead of picking the ones he would read at random… Well, perhaps not that randomly – he had certainly chosen some rather provocative ones when he had first introduced her to Whitman's poetry! But tonight, it was not so much about testing the waters or trying to push her limits a little further… It was more about deepening their understanding of each other, their intimacy and simply enjoying being together.

As Sully recited the verses, Michaela found herself as mesmerized by the timbre of his voice as she had been a few days before in the park, and the way his inflection would subtly change depending on the meaning of the words. Sometimes, his hand would move caressingly across her stomach, along her arm or her thigh, his breath a constant, warm tickle to her cheek, and she would quiver with the lightest, most delicious frissons. She also found that her understanding of the poems differed quite radically from her first acquaintance with them, now that she was no longer so focused on their scandalous reputation. Underneath the frank, bold words, there was such a deep devotion for their country and land, for Nature and for Humanity. Whitman was indeed celebrating mankind as an integral part of the universe, and now she could really appreciate his poems' appeal to Sully as they somehow embodied her husband's personal philosophy, way of life and code of conduct…

He paused for a few seconds to bend his head and kiss her neck, jaw and temple, and she sighed dreamily. She thought back of the previous months, when she had so looked forward to being married to Sully and had been longing for both emotional and physical closeness with him despite that little knot of misconceptions and fears ingrained in her mind by her upbringing. She shifted a little to be able to look into his eyes when she would tell him _I love you_ once more. All she wanted to do at that moment was to repeat it over and over, kiss him till the end of time, and love him with every fiber of herself, body and soul.

When their gazes met, he chose that moment to intone:

_O Camerado close!  
O you and me at last—and us two only.  
O a word to clear one's path ahead endlessly!  
O something extatic and undemonstrable! O music wild!  
O now I triumph—and you shall also;  
O hand in hand—O wholesome pleasure—O one more desirer and lover!  
O to haste, firm holding—to haste, haste on, with me._ _**[1]** _

As he was reciting the verses by memory in a slow but steady voice, Michaela felt as if she was no longer listening to Whitman's poetry, but to Sully's own thoughts. Moreover, doing so while holding her gaze, he truly seemed to be deciphering a part of her mind to which he had just found the key, or maybe it was her heart – or both. Whatever it was, she couldn't help but react and raised her lips to his for a brief yet very soulful kiss.

Sully was more than pleased with how his plan was unfolding, even more so with Michaela nestled so trustingly in his arms. He knew he had to show her that one had to look beyond the most blatant reference to sexuality to understand Whitman's intentions were to liberate the American society from unnecessary taboos and reconcile them with their truest Nature. With this in mind, he had started selecting the poems after their last counseling session with the Reverend when she had finally admitted her fears about intimacy, fears he had been aware of ever since they had first discussed the book. This time she didn't appear to be focusing so hard on trying to relax that he was left wondering whether she truly heard anything. This time he could tell she was not only listening, but understanding, too. This time, there was no mistaking the meaning of the gleam in her eyes.

When Sully had first spotted the book among Josef Quinn's collection, he had been intrigued by the title. There was something vaguely familiar about it, as if he had heard it somewhere, and of course, _Leaves of Grass_ could only mean it had to do with Nature and the outdoors, which had appealed to him. Then, there had been the bittersweet pleasantness of finding out it was poetry. It had brought back long-buried memories of his mother curled up in the lone rickety, tattered armchair in front of the small fireplace in their home, soothing her aches from the hard, long working days by immersing herself into the harmonics of English poetry. Fortunately, Whitman's was so radically different that Sully had been able to quickly store the painful remembrance back where it belonged and had found himself instantly enthralled in the bard's freedom of speech and thought.

Confidently he resumed his reading, doing his best to convey his own feelings through Whitman's eloquent words. After a couple of more strophes he had found inspiring and wanted to share with her, he reached one that he thought to be particularly meaningful:

_Press close, bare-bosom'd night! Press close, magnetic, nourishing night!  
Night of south winds! night of the large few stars!  
Still, nodding night! mad, naked, summer night.  
Smile, O voluptuous, cool-breath'd earth!  
Earth of the slumbering and liquid trees;  
Earth of departed sunset! earth of the mountains, misty-topt!  
Earth of the vitreous pour of the full moon, just tinged with blue!  
Earth of shine and dark, mottling the tide of the river!  
Earth of the limpid gray of clouds, brighter and clearer for my sake!  
Far-swooping elbow'd earth! rich, apple-blossom'd earth!  
Smile, for your lover comes!  
Prodigal, you have given me love! Therefore I to you give love!  
O unspeakable, passionate love!_ _**[2]** _

He let his hand linger on the page, hoping she would look and see what poem was coming next – the first he had ever shared with her, _You sea!_ – and also pondering if he should comment on the one he had just read.

Michaela's breath hitched in her throat both at the subtle suggestiveness of the poem and because she recognized the words of the next one. She lightly caressed his hand in acknowledgement, to which he answered by bringing to his lips her slender fingers, kissing them adoringly.

"Do you know what I love in these poems?" she said quite ingenuously.

"Tell me…"

"They encourage us to see things from a new angle… when I say _new_ , I mean candidly, without preconceived notions… What?"

Sully was looking at her in delighted wonder. How uncanny that in a few words, she had summed up how he felt about Whitman's poetry, and that she now seemed to be feeling the same.

"Nothin'… I'm just glad you can see that now."

"I had no idea… you can feel Emerson's influence clearly, and the Transcendentalism in general. And perhaps a little of the Pre-Romanticism movement as well…"

"Huh?"

"Oh, I'm sorry Sully, I didn't mean to start a lecture."

"Ah, don't worry, I ain't thinkin' that… I know you like that Emerson fella, but I dunno much 'bout them philosophers… But I don't mind you telling me about 'em. 'Member? I told ya I wish I had somebody smart as you to teach me when I was growin' up…"

"Yes I remember. But I thought you were…" she paused, lifting a shoulder with a self-conscious shrug. "I don't know, perhaps you were gently mocking me, or just trying to get Brian to accept my filling in for the Reverend."

"Nope, I really meant it. And ya know, you can still teach me things like that. That way, we can have those talks over breakfast you wanted."

Michaela let out a soft laugh, and then twisted sideways to be able to see him better. She was expecting to see the usual teasing glint in his eyes, but she found that he was looking at her with genuine interest instead. In her heart and in her mind, she would always treasure knowing that he was actually willing to take an interest in this, possibly for her sake, as she had always figured his intellect to be far too practical to actually bother with the endless questioning of philosophy… She felt the sharp pang of shame for not giving him enough credit, but at least now, more than ever, she was convinced that he was her true soul mate – her perfect match.

So she launched into a recounting of those various intellectual currents in Europe and New England that had advocated the natural goodness of all things, included the innate human behavior. How thinkers like Emerson, or the Swiss philosopher Rousseau had more or less accused the so-called civilization to be responsible for corrupting men. How the notion of propriety was often targeted as the main culprit of men's misdeeds…

Sully did his best to concentrate on her explanations, but it was not an easy task as he had to fight off the dazzling fascination she was casting on him again. The animated spark in her eyes, the passionate lilt of her voice, her entire demeanor – _this_ was the Michaela he loved best, enthusiastic and highly knowledgeable without ostentation. It was amusing to imagine all the little wheels of her bright mind turning at full speed as she ruminated aloud about the significance the various works she was mentioning had, when combined into a common perspective. And of course, it was arousing. When she eventually paused in her speech, Sully couldn't restrain himself from cupping her face to bring her mouth to his for another long, exploratory kiss. When she pulled back to catch her breath, there was a trace of bewilderment across her countenance, and she unconsciously inched away from him – and the physical manifestation of his reawakened desire. Her cheeks turned pink as it triggered a mirroring reaction in her. _Amazing… Simply amazing._ And a bit confusing, too – the last thing she would have expected to happen when discussing such scholarly matters!

Sully sensed her hesitation and immediately sought to reassure her. He lightly touched her arm.

"Huh… I'm sorry… Couldna helped it," he said quickly, with a sheepish little half grin, before he hastened to add, "But, hey, it don't mean we _gotta_ make love right now, mmh?"

"But…"

"No buts. 'Chaela, that's what ya do t'me, always have since I met ya."

Her eyes grew wide and her blush deepened as she imagined him already reacting like this during some of their early encounters. She was aware that most men wouldn't have thought twice before seeking relief with the first female they could find, paying for a prostitute, seducing or assaulting the object of their lust, but she instinctively knew Sully would never have forced himself on anyone… Still she was left to wonder how he had dealt with this _problem_ … actually she guessed, but her mind shied away from reaching that conclusion and picturing him too clearly, alone under his lean-to, thinking about her and…

She also remembered all too well how restless and painfully frustrated she had felt on a few occasions, how embarrassed she had been with the first callow manifestations of her attraction to Sully, unable to do anything about it – _a lady doesn't indulge herself in such disgraceful ways!_

"We don't have to do anythin'," Sully gently insisted. Part of him wanted them to share a few more poems before heading to bed, yet he knew that it could be also another occasion to make Michaela understand she truly had the final say, whatever she decided to do; that she had every right to feel she had had enough. And it was definitely an opportunity for her to express her wishes straightforwardly. "Unless _you_ want to…" he emphasized.

What did she want to do, indeed? It struck her then that, unless there was danger, Sully had always offered her complete freedom to decide, but he hadn't done so because he was weak or foolishly infatuated to the point of bending backward to satisfy her every whim. No, it was because he trusted her, treated her as an equal. He had even gotten over his wounded pride when they had fussed about the unorthodox difference in their incomes – anyway, his salary from his position as Indian Agent had evened out that difference since then – and had acknowledged that they were a team, not just any couple. _How lucky I am…_ _How I love him!_

Though she could feel her own yearning fluttering low in her belly, it wasn't too insistent or overwhelming yet that she could not handle it. And Sully was obviously feeling the same, his posture still relaxed… Well, she did want to prolong their poetic evening. She had noticed the many little strips of paper punctuating the pages, and presumed Sully had intended to read some more.

"Would you read more poems to me?" she requested sweetly, peering back up at him with not-so-guileless, shining eyes. Sully chuckled. How could a woman be so naïve and modest one minute only to turn into such a masterful flirt the next? But he didn't mind, as she wasn't one of those women who teased and led men on for weeks or months only to mock them.

To her surprise he didn't read the next, now familiar poem, but instead thumbed forward until he reached what he wished to share with her. He started:

_From pent-up aching rivers,  
From that of myself without which I were nothing,  
From what I am determin'd to make illustrious, even if I stand sole among men,  
From my own voice resonant, singing the phallus,  
Singing the song of procreation,  
Singing the need of superb children and therein superb grown people,  
Singing the muscular urge and the blending,  
Singing the bedfellow's song, (O resistless yearning!  
O for any and each the body correlative attracting!  
O for you whoever you are your correlative body! O it, more than all else, you delighting!)  
From the hungry gnaw that eats me night and day,  
From native moments, from bashful pains, singing them,  
Seeking something yet unfound though I have diligently sought it many a long year,  
Singing the true song of the soul fitful at random,  
Renascent with grossest Nature or among animals,  
Of that, of them and what goes with them my poems informing,  
Of the smell of apples and lemons, of the pairing of birds,  
Of the wet of woods, of the lapping of waves,  
Of the mad pushes of waves upon the land, I them chanting,  
The overture lightly sounding, the strain anticipating,  
The welcome nearness, the sight of the perfect body,  
The swimmer swimming naked in the bath, or motionless on his back lying and floating,  
The female form approaching, I pensive, love-flesh tremulous aching,  
The divine list for myself or you or for any one making,  
The face, the limbs, the index from head to foot, and what it arouses,  
The mystic deliria, the madness amorous, the utter abandonment,  
(Hark close and still what I now whisper to you,  
I love you, O you entirely possess me,  
O that you and I escape from the rest and go utterly off, free and lawless,  
Two hawks in the air, two fishes swimming in the sea not more lawless than we;)  
The furious storm through me careering, I passionately trembling.  
The oath of the inseparableness of two together, of the woman that loves me and whom I love more than my life, that oath swearing,  
(O I willingly stake all for you,  
O let me be lost if it must be so!  
O you and I! what is it to us what the rest do or think?  
What is all else to us? only that we enjoy each other and exhaust each other if it must be so;)  
From the master, the pilot I yield the vessel to,  
The general commanding me, commanding all, from him permission taking,  
From time the programme hastening, (I have loiter'd too long as it is,)  
From sex, from the warp and from the woof,  
From privacy, from frequent repinings alone,  
From plenty of persons near and yet the right person not near,  
From the long sustain'd kiss upon the mouth or bosom,  
From the close pressure that makes me or any man drunk, fainting with excess,  
From what the divine husband knows, from the work of fatherhood,  
From exultation, victory and relief, from the bedfellow's embrace in the night,  
From the act-poems of eyes, hands, hips and bosoms,  
From the cling of the trembling arm,  
From the bending curve and the clinch,  
From side by side the pliant coverlet off-throwing,  
From the one so unwilling to have me leave, and me just as unwilling to leave,  
(Yet a moment O tender waiter, and I return,)  
From the hour of shining stars and dropping dews,  
From the night a moment I emerging flitting out,  
Celebrate you act divine and you children prepared for,  
And you stalwart loins_ _**[3]** _

Sully could barely finish the poem, as the words not only had restated out loud their mutual hope for conceiving the child they both already knew and loved in their heart, but had also summoned vivid memories of the most intimate moments of their week-old marriage. More than that, they had painted highly graphic, detailed fantasies and their corresponding sensations through their mind and flesh, to the point that the lovers both moved at the same time to initiate the first kiss of their now inevitable coupling.

The book toppled ineptly to the floor with a muffled thud, several of the makeshift bookmarks drifting out, when Sully scooped his wife in his arms and swiftly carried her to their bed. The hunger of their kiss was even more urgent than their latest encounter. However, when he deposited her on the bed, he managed to pull away, once again hesitant.

"You sure 'bout this?" he rasped.

"Yes… Love me, Sully, please…" she hissed longingly.

Sully thought his ears were deceiving him. Had she finally overruled her principle of _not talking of such things_? Or was she simply so caught up in the moment that she was unconsciously speaking her heart and body's desires, and maybe would regret it later? Anyway, the invitation was too clear to ignore, even more so as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him with unprecedented fervor, slowly leaning back, and bringing him down with her.

Clothes were quickly discarded, her hair soon tumbled in coppery billows onto the coverlet, and he didn't waste much time before joining their bodies. Her body's heated scent was letting him know of her readiness.

But the second he slipped inside her, a new feeling, one he couldn't neither name nor know exactly where it came from, surged through him. Maybe it was the evocative force of Whitman's poetry that so suddenly heightened his perception, as if it had birthed a new form of instinct within him. It was still downright carnal, yet it wasn't begging for release as much as it made him preoccupied with prolonging their union as long as he could. His body and soul were demanding to be one with her _forever_.

The arousing words, still echoing in their minds, rocked and lulled their body into a slow but steady motion. Hands had found their comrades and locked firmly together. They were truly one, skin, heartbeat, breath; _one_ look drowning in dark swirls of blue and golden hazel and green; _one_ current of energy and power. _One_ kiss, the one their souls exchanged as they touched and melded. _One_ caress, deep, deliberate, liberated, never-ending. _One_ essence.

And then…

Pleasure crept upon them in a drawn-out rising whirlwind, first blowing Michaela away, with Sully not far behind as he witnessed the transcendent, nearly mystical ecstasy that was lighting up her face. He felt himself dissolving into that incandescence.

And then…

Nothing but heavenly light and silence.

When Michaela regained her senses, Sully was cradled into her embrace, she was clinging onto his sturdy torso as one drowning. He was lying very still, his eyes closed against her throat, but the perceptible rise and fall of his chest under her hands calmed her unreasoned apprehension. As the whole of her reality came back to her, she became conscious of the thrilling sensation of Sully still linked to her. Moreover, she had never really _consciously_ acknowledged before the way the flowing warmth of his semen was filling her so fully – not just her body, but again her instinct. She would have never thought that something so… base, so organic could give her this kind of satisfaction.

She took deep, shuddering breaths, still overwhelmed by the incredible… what word could possibly describe what she had just experienced? Her memory brought her back to their first morning together, and that almost scary moment – she had felt close to dying as her first taste of sexual pleasure had caught her unaware, not to mention quite violently so.

This time, she had not been afraid. Sully had _been_ with her, within and all around, so she wouldn't have been able to tell herself apart from him, and she would have gladly died indeed to remain so completely fused with him. It had been so profound, so incredibly meaningful! The tears of joy she had shed that afternoon returned, and she let them fall, basking fully in the emotion that had prompted them.

Sully stirred, as if her quiet weeping had awakened him. He pressed a tired kiss to the hollow of the throat, then shifted up a little, slipping free in the process. At first they didn't talk, there was no need. He didn't even question the tears, as he was close to crying himself. For some time, they kissed and nuzzled and rubbed noses, foreheads and bodies pressed together in loving repose.

Eventually, Sully rose to extinguish the lamp they had forgotten by the settee, and resumed his place alongside his wife, who was already nodding off. He kissed her lips one last time and murmured, "Good night, my Camerado."

He felt her fingers gently enclosing his wrist, and the soft puff of her breath on his cheek as she answered, "Good night, my Ocean."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] 'Starting From Paumanok' n°20, Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman, 1867
> 
> [2] 'Walt Whitman' n° 21, id.
> 
> [3] 'Children of Adam', From pent-up, aching rivers, id.


	18. Liebesträume

_Saturday May, 28_ _th_ _, 1870_

Michaela opened her eyes, blinking slowly. She had awoken earlier in the wee hours of the morning, but feeling deeply contented, warm and secure with Sully snuggled so close, she had let herself fall back into a light, languorous doze. Her snooze however had soon become suffused with dream-like remembrances of the previous day – his hands, his voice, his lips, _his entire being_ , caressing her endlessly – and with her subconscious registering her husband's proximity, the heat coming from his body, his unique scent, it all contributed in making her restless – and rather titillated.

She shifted a little to be able to observe her husband better. She would never tire of gazing at him, for he wasn't just any handsome male with finely chiseled features. She loved what his physiognomy told of the man he truly was, from his proud jaw, his sensuous lips – she barely managed to resist the temptation of claiming them to relish their warmth, their softness and their unique taste… His eyes. _Oh, those eyes!_ As enigmatic as he had seemed to her at times, especially during her first year in Colorado, now she only had to look into his eyes to know what he was thinking or how he was feeling. The way he looked at her, truly made her feel so – _so_ … Again she was unable to find the adequate word to sum up how elated, proud and cherished she felt to be Sully's wife.

Just as she contemplated rousing him – if only to be able to see his eyes gazing back at her with love – he stirred as well.

"Good morning, Sleepyhead!" she purred playfully.

Sully didn't need to open his eyes to sense that Michaela was hovering just above him. He could picture her, propped on her elbow, her eyes alight and her lips set in that ingenuous, unwittingly seductive smile of hers; her hair cascading around his head like a silky, fragrant curtain which reflected the morning sunlight and gave it the coppery tinge that filtered through his closed eyelids. Though his mind – not to mention his body – was instantly alert, he deliberately affected a sleepy behavior, hiding his mischievous grin behind a yawn, and snuggled closer to his wife, his mouth conveniently finding one of her breasts, which he kissed lingeringly.

Giggling because his morning whiskers were tickling her, she made to squirm out of his reach. His arm, however, immediately came round her waist to hold her firmly against him, while his lips sensuously roved across the soft mounds to capture one nipple, then the other, and nibble at them until they were as hard and erect as _he_ was. Powerless under his tantalizing touch, she could only moan in delight. Her hand, which had started a gentle, encouraging raking motion through his hair, stopped in its tracks, and she let out a strangled, high-pitched whimper that enhanced his own arousal all the more.

His lips nuzzling her warm cleavage, he recited slowly and with practiced inflection, his voice reduced to a seductive rasp, "Display thy breasts, my 'Chaela, There let me… Behold that circummortal purity… Between whose glories, there my lips I'll lay… Ravished in that fair Via Lactea.[1]"

The provocative verse and his even more provocative tone as he breathed the words hotly against her skin were her undoing.

"That… doesn't s–sound like… Walt Whitman," she gasped while he maintained his ministrations onto her breasts.

"Nope… That was Herrick… I'm sure he wouldn't mind… me changin' the name… to fit ya," he murmured between nips and suckles, his action driving her so mindless she could not utter a single sound anymore. He grinned proudly: Michaela's present reaction and obvious enjoyment were very much worth his efforts. He had spent many lonely evenings scanning Josef Quinn's extensive collection of books by his camp fire, searching for poetry to woo his wife, maybe help things along while they would be on their honeymoon. Herrick had struck his fancy, and he had gone as far as memorizing a few lines – even though he had had to consult very old, musty-smelling dictionaries to verify the meaning of some of the words…

Over the course of the previous week, Michaela had discovered how sensitive her breasts truly were and how pleasurable Sully's caresses and kisses felt upon that part of her anatomy, whether his touch was as light as a butterfly's wing or firm and possessive. This morning he was suckling them quite hungrily… maddeningly… Never before had she felt that melting sensation inside washing over her so fast. Within seconds she lost all control and her body opened up completely on its own, inviting him unabashedly.

Sully needed no further biding. But instead of simply creeping up her body to be eye level as he joined with her, he allowed himself to be adventurous again. He guided her on her back and knelt between her thighs, pausing to take in the sight she was offering him – the temptingly soft swells of her breasts with those two oh-so delicious, dark rosebuds standing out in the expanse of her creamy skin, and above everything, the yearning, even lustful expression all over her face… her eyelashes fluttering amorously and the catch of her breath when he entered her… the way her quick pants were making her lips tremble and her bosom rise and fall even more enticingly… Desire raged within him, but he truly wanted to give her as much satisfaction as he could. Perched on his haunches as he was, not only could he control his movements, but he also had access to several strategically sensitive spots he could stimulate to his leisure – and _her_ pleasure.

Michaela felt the same mixture of irrepressible excitement and shock at her husband's audacious imagination she had experienced a couple of times before. Sully's expert hands seemed to be everywhere, all over her torso, up her neck, back down to her waist and lower to her thighs – anywhere they were needed as if they were following a trail of messages that her body was sending. Her instinctual response was to cross her ankles tightly at his lower back, her heels pressing into his backside in synchronization with his thrusts as she unconsciously strove to bring him even closer.

Sensing he was not very far from losing control himself, he slid an arm under her knee and brought her calf up to rest on his shoulder. The move helped him shift his focus for a couple of seconds – that was just enough for him to delay his release a little longer, while at the same time it elicited a low, guttural, almost pained groan of pleasure from his wife. Her breathing was reduced to a few short gasps, and all her muscles were tightly clenched. All it took to bring her to completion was to stroke the back of her thigh and her buttock in a way he knew to be highly erotic for her, while his other hand went back to her breast, cupping and squeezing it with a confident gentleness. His gaze fixed on her face, he watched intently for her reaction. He didn't have to wait long for…

Her eyes closed tight and she brought the back of her hand to her mouth, biting it to at least try and muffle the howl of pleasure she couldn't contain as her entire body quivered voluptuously. He then leaned forward and moved increasingly faster, his fingers digging into the moist flesh of her hips, as he no longer needed to hold back. She seized the opportunity to grasp his nape and claim his mouth, kissing him with both gratefulness and enthusiastic ardor. She could feel him so deep inside her, he filled her so wonderfully and completely that she couldn't think of anything more fulfilling on Earth right at that moment. And instead of calming down, she felt a new, higher wave of pleasure cresting. She hung tightly onto his broad shoulders then let herself go, whimpering inarticulate murmurs against his ear – she wanted to encourage him, but the words still wouldn't come. She could only once again cry out her satisfaction as she sensed the soft, warm spasms of his release melding with her own. _Oh, that feels so good,_ was her lone coherent thought for quite a while, even after he had withdrawn and they lay quietly, recovering, kissing now and then, amidst the tangle of bed sheets and covers.

Half an hour or so later, Sully tore himself away from his wife's arms with such reluctance she almost laughed and felt like luring him back. Not that she wasn't perfectly content already, but she couldn't deny either that she was starting to experience a strange form of addiction. It was frightening, thrilling and bewildering all at the same time to realize how much she craved being with Sully with increasing intensity and frequency… Fearing a reawakening of her senses that might not be quelled until much later – _we have plans for today_ , she sternly reminded herself– she clamped down hard on her emotions and rose as well to get ready.

* * *

They spent most of the day window-shopping to try and find gifts for the children. By mid-afternoon, they had spotted several items for each of them, but then it became a matter of deciding which one to choose. They agreed to come back next Monday or Tuesday, and then concluded their day out by taking a stroll in the same park they had visited on several occasions. This time there was a band playing by the gazebo and several couples were dancing to the lively polka music.

"You wanna dance?" asked Sully perfunctorily, knowing her answer already.

"I'd love to… but only if you want to. I know you don't care much for dancing and tha—"

"I care for havin' ya in my arms," he countered gently, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger to steal a kiss.

Blushing out of habit, she cast him a coy look and stated, "I'd never say no to dancing with you, you already know that."

"Yep!" His face lit up with a pleased smile that bordered on smugness.

They danced for a little while, one couple amongst the others, yet still attracting most of the attention of the passers-by, not so much because of Michaela's beauty or Sully's buckskins and long hair, but again because of the unconcealed adoration between them. After a reel and a waltz, the band paused briefly, and Michaela suggested they leave right away, so they wouldn't have to rush to prepare for the recital that night.

After a light collation that was to serve as supper, they went back to their suite to change into evening dress. Michaela paid extra attention to her appearance to ensure Sully's eyes would shine with contentment and pride, and had selected a gown she had brought back from Boston but never actually worn. The bodice and underskirt were made of rich, dark purple velvet, while narrow billows of crisp amethyst-colored taffeta were bunched around her hips and gathered in the back to fall in a short train, the overall volume more discreet and less cumbersome then her usual bustle, allowing her to sit more comfortably. A matching piece of raw silk the same color of the train was draped across her shoulders and plunging low in her back.

The spark in her husband's eyes when he took in her looks, and his hands caressing her skin as he did up the many little clasps at the back of her dress were a very pleasant reward for her efforts. He couldn't resist hungrily kissing the exposed flesh of her shoulders.

"Sully, we're going to be late," she protested in a throaty whisper that indicated she still enjoyed his ministrations. He reluctantly released her after a last kiss to her lips, and silently escorted her out and down the stairs to the grand salon where the recital was to take place.

The attendees were for the most part hotel patrons, although some prominent citizens from Denver completed the audience. Again, Michaela stood out both as the undeniably most beautiful woman, and also as the most stylish. Sully unconsciously straightened with instinctive pride and confidence as he led his wife to a row of chairs where another couple was already settled. He nodded to them courteously, while Michaela greeted them with one of her gracious smiles, and then they took their seats. While they were waiting for the pianist to arrive, Michaela spoke in hushed tones.

"Have I ever told you about my Uncle Teddy? My father's brother, Theodore Quinn?"

"Don't think so… why?"

"He's a rather famous pianist. He's been touring the world's largest cities and has even played before some monarchs in Europe…"

"Well, can't say as I'm surprised. Seems talent runs in your family," Sully complimented as he brought her hand to his lips for a quick, sweet kiss. Michaela smiled humbly, her cheeks flushing as she took in the sincere admiration in his eyes. She was about to reply that she certainly didn't measure up to her uncle's talent, especially when it came to playing the piano, when the young man that would be performing came up to the stage under polite applause.

As soon as the room fell silent again, the pianist started with a piece from Robert Schumann. _Fantasy op.17_ , read the program Michaela held in her hand. The pieces listed were all from Romantic composers, she soon realized. Chopin, Schubert, Mendelssohn… Liszt. She shivered involuntarily as she spotted _Liebesträume,_ and the detail of its three movements.

"'Chaela?" Sully inquired in a worried whisper, leaning toward her slightly. He had noticed the brief discomfiture on her face and how she had trembled. But as well as he knew her, he could not figure out why she would show discomfort reading a concert program. Seeing concern clouding his eyes, she smiled reassuringly at him and indicated with a nod toward the stage that they should pay attention to the artist. Though still somewhat puzzled, he decided that maybe he was feeling overprotective, especially with so many male eyes around them straying a little too often and too lingeringly toward Michaela. Maybe her brief moment of unease had nothing to do with the concert… Maybe her corset was laced too tight, despite his efforts to make the loops as loose as he could so as not to smother her… _or she could be cold_ … but then, the room was quite warm, with the candles in the chandeliers and the fires roaring in two large hearths. _Too hot?_ She still looked a little flushed…

Anyway, he tried to focus on the music – he wanted to learn to appreciate it enough to at least be able to talk about it with Michaela later if she wanted to, and not just dropping some clumsy "it was beautiful" the way he had blurted after they had come back from the opera in Boston. Granted he had been feeling terribly tongue-tied then. She had been so ravishingly beautiful, so close while at the same time so unattainable… That night he had resolved to disclose his feelings to her as soon as he could, yet, when he had opened his mouth to do so, the only thing that had come out was "would you like to take a walk with me tomorrow?" The events that had unfolded the next day might have not turned out as he had hoped, but it didn't matter anymore, she had come back to Colorado, to him, _for him_ , when she could have so easily accepted William's proposal and the straightforward commitment the Boston doctor was offering.

 _No need to dwell on that anymore_ , he thought as he cast another glance at her. He was pleased to see a serene and attentive expression on her face, and had to smile when he saw her glancing at him, too, out of the corner of her eye, and her consequent amused grin.

The concert went without a hitch for the first half, and during a short intermission, Sully listened to people around them comment about the talent of the pianist. He himself couldn't have been able to analyze the man's technique or even the pertinence of his choices, but at least he could tell that the musician managed to convey passion, tenderness or sad longing in the way the pieces had probably been meant to be played. It felt like listening to a foreign language without knowing the sense of the words, yet understanding how the speaker felt by their tone of voice.

When the pianist came back, he resumed with Liszt's third Consolation. The tune was familiar to Michaela, as she had always been rather partial to the Hungarian composer. She sighed as she remembered one of the few occasions she had ventured out of her boarding house in Philadelphia, to attend a concert with her friend and roommate Miriam Tilson, and had fallen in love with Liszt's works… She could still remember how that piece had made her long terribly for David's presence while, in the seat next to her, Miriam was leaning toward her beau, Robert….

David… Boston… their engagement party, their outings becoming more frequent… and that other concert they had gone to together, as a surprise from David when he had discovered how much she loved Liszt.

Just at that moment, the pianist started playing the first movement of the Liebesträume, and she remembered…

* * *

_June 14_ _th_ _, 1861_

"So, Michaela… how did you like those Liebesträume?" David asked as he handed her a glass of champagne during the reception at the end of the concert. They were standing on the terrace, enjoying the early summer night air, which was saturated with the heady fragrances of the many rosebushes and linden trees in the gardens of Boston.

"They were lovely", Michaela answered brightly, her eyes animated and her cheeks flushed, "and Mr. Coltrane played them so well. I heard tell that Liszt considers it very important to pour all your heart and soul into the music…"

David smiled, pleased with her enthusiastic reaction, in spite of the subdued atmosphere of the concert hall. The War had been on everybody's lips and minds for the past two months with frequent news of someone from the area killed or gone missing, so it felt good to forget it for a little while, if only for an evening.

He knew that her cousin Carlton's enlistment was also troubling Michaela, especially because of the rift it had created between her father and her Uncle Theodore… David was considering joining too, and fulfilling what he saw as a sacred duty, to fight for the ideals of freedom and equality. But how would Michaela react? Spending hours writing speeches was one thing – going to the battlefield was quite another. Knowing her, she might just march straight to the registration bureau and offer her services as a physician, even as a mere nurse if she had to, so that she could *do* something. So he had kept putting off telling her what he planned to do. He didn't want her to do anything foolhardy. The most difficult part of it all was that he didn't want to be separated from her, now that they were finally engaged to be married…

His darling fiancée.

He gazed down at her, so breathtaking in her lacy evening gown, her hair swept up in a very becoming style… It was so rare to see her in such feminine attire, as she most often wore plain, severe-looking dresses in the hospital or in her father's office. Slightly intoxicated by both the bubbly euphoria from the champagne and her delicate perfume wafting discreetly from her décolletage, David wondered how much longer he could hold out before sweeping her off her feet, crinoline and all, and finding the first priest to marry them on the spot. _Why wait any longer…?_ He shook himself, trying to dispel those foolish notions. He knew better, didn't he? Yet he could not resist leaning down and planting what he meant to be a soft kiss on her lips, she was too irresistible…

"I love you," he whispered before giving her a second kiss, and then a third.

Though he had caught her off guard, Michaela didn't shy away from his embrace as propriety and a chaperone would have dictated. But to David's delight, their chaperone, for once, was nowhere to be seen. Actually, they were quite alone as only two other couples were still lingering outside, obviously exchanging gallant remarks and hushed laughter. A shred of unease slithered into Michaela's stomach. She struggled to keep her wits about her, to push him away, but she found she couldn't. In fact, she was actually enjoying this unique moment of near complete privacy with her fiancé. And it wasn't as if he was aggressive and demanding.

Still, she tried to placate his advances as gently as she could think of. "I love you too, David."

David pulled back a little, his expression unreadable with his face in the shadows, but she could feel him relax a little, and she was certain he was smiling down at her.

"Liebestraum…" he whispered soulfully, caressing her cheek.

"Dream of Love," she provided, dropping her eyes demurely. She had the distinct feeling that they should not linger much longer, though she couldn't have said where that intuition came from. She was about to suggest they return to the reception hall when David spoke up again:

"Do you know that the three movements of that piece were originally songs? Liszt used three German poems as lyrics."

Michaela's interest got piqued at this, her curiosity making short work on overruling caution.

"Did he? What are those poems about?"

David chuckled indulgently at her candor, but at the same time, he wondered if it was a good idea to recite them to her… whether tonight or any time before they were properly married, and when she wouldn't be so innocent regarding intimate matters. Something he was sure of was that Michaela was not _acting_ modest for appearance's sake when she was keeping him at safe distance, unlike other young women he had come across, well-bred yet only playing coy to lead men around.

Still, though he could hardly be considered intoxicated, his mild light-headedness, provoked more by Michaela's charm than the alcohol, was enough to lift his usual reserve.

"They are about the different kinds of love," he eventually answered. "The first one is about saintly love, the kind we have for God and for which a man can renounce to worldly, human love…"

Should he dare continue? He was threading on dangerous ground…

"The third… is about deep, committed love. The one we experience as mature adults. It goes like this…"

 _O lieb, so lang du lieben kannst!_ (O love, as long as you can love!)  
 _O lieb, so lang du lieben magst!_ (O love, as long as you'd like to love!)  
 _Die Stunde kommt, die Stunde kommt,_ (The hour comes, the hour comes,)  
 _Wo du an Gräbern stehst und klagst!_ (When you will stand grieving at graves.)

 _Und sorge, daß dein Herze glüht_ (And make sure that your heart glows)  
 _Und Liebe hegt und Liebe trägt,_ (And nurtures and carries love,)  
 _So lang ihm noch ein ander Herz_ (As long as another heart is still)  
 _In Liebe warm entgegenschlägt!_ (Warmly returning its loving beat!)

 _Und wer dir seine Brust erschließt,_ (And the one opens his breast to you,)  
 _O tu ihm, was du kannst, zulieb!_ (O do to him what you can, for his sake!)  
 _Und mach ihm jede Stunde froh_ , (And make him happy at every moment,)  
 _Und mach ihm keine Stunde trüb!_ (And never spoil him any moment!)

Michaela blushed lightly, moved by the sentiment. She understood German well enough, as she did French, since her father had insisted she learn as many foreign languages as she could, along with Greek and Latin, so she could keep up with European scientific researches, without needing to wait for the medical journals to be translated.

"And the second?" she requested. "You said there were three poems…"

David gulped. He had been a fool to even entertain the hope Michaela wouldn't notice his overlooking of the second poem. And he knew she would only grow suspicious if he didn't reveal its purport. He had let the discussion go too far. Yet, with her he had no choice but to finish it… and live with the consequences.

He cupped her shoulders, whose exposed skin gleamed like moonlit ivory in the darkness, his hands looking like huge beastly paws upon her delicate frame.

"It's called _Seliger Tod_ ," he revealed, his voice raspy, with a hint of urgency that made Michaela's uneasiness return threefold.

"Doesn't that mean 'holy death'? I thought it was about love…"

 _Oh, God, help me_ , David thought, closing his eyes to collect himself.

"It is… oh, Michaela…" He almost crushed her into his arms. Never had he loved her more, nor had he been more frustrated with the social codes of their class that forbade him to surrender to his desire. "It is," he repeated. He leant in to kiss her again, more passionately than he had ever dared before. Michaela could only submit, unsure of how to react. How could she? On one hand, she relished David's obvious adoration, while on the other hand, she felt totally clumsy and ignorant… and honestly, a tad uncomfortable under the pressure of his mouth upon hers.

Eventually David let go of her lips, and intoned fervently,

 _Gestorben war ich_ (I had died)  
 _Vor Liebeswonne;_ ( from love's bliss.)  
 _Begraben lag ich_ (I was buried)  
 _In ihren Armen;_ (In her arms;)  
 _Erwecket ward ich_ (revived I was)  
 _Von ihren Küssen;_ (by her kisses;)  
 _Den Himmel sah ich_ (I saw Heaven)  
 _In ihren Augen._ (in her eyes.)

Predictably, Michaela stiffened and shrugged his hold off, stepping a few paces away and turning her back to him. The words had summoned a rather hazy fantasy in her naïve imagination, one she felt she ought not to have. It was improper. It was dangerous…

"I… I think we should—we'd better go back now, David," she pleaded. Her nervousness had reached such a high level she felt close to tears.

He nodded silently, and during the rest of the evening, he had the good grace to look somewhat shamed. When he escorted her back to her parent's home in Beacon Hill, he merely kissed her hand in adieu and swiftly disappeared into the night.

Little did she know then that the very next day, he would show up in full officer garb, announcing his departure for the front two days later…

* * *

_Saturday May, 28_ _th_ _, 1870_

Michaela shuddered again when the pianist started playing the second movement, the one that had prompted David's forward behavior all those years ago. She still wondered if it had been her rebuff that night that had caused him to so hastily enlist, or if it had only precipitated it.

Sully's hand came upon hers, which were clutching her skirts tensely, and immediately she felt herself calming. How silly of her to dwell on something that had happened ages ago! She turned her head to peer at her husband. He was once again observing her attentively, his concern obvious. She knew he would want to know what troubled her.

"I'll tell you later," she mouthed. And then she returned her attention to the stage. For the next hour or so, she felt Sully's gaze on her several times, and his occasional squeezing of her hands clasped on her lap.

Afterwards, they didn't linger with the other patrons. Once in their room, Michaela fully expected Sully to besiege her with questions, but he simply said,

"Are you all right, 'Chaela?"

"Yes, Sully, I'm fine." She could tell him. He would understand. "I… I guess I was just feeling a little nostalgic at one point."

"Nostalgic?"

She smiled tenderly at him and rose on her tiptoes to brush his lips with the sweetest kiss.

"Listening to those particular pieces of music made me think of my youth…and my time at Medical College. One composer in particular… Franz Liszt… is a favorite of mine since that time." She bit her lip, somewhat hesitant to mention David at all. Yet Sully knew her too well.

"You sure it was just nostalgia? Ya looked kinda upset to me at one point…"

_Tell him._

Casting about for a way to broach the subject, she began, "Ahem—well… remember how impatient you were with me when we began courting?"

Clueless about what she was getting at, Sully merely nodded.

"Er… and how angry I was with you because of Catherine?"

"Michaela, I thought we were done with that Catherine business…"

"Please, let me finish… I—to be honest, I was most of all angry with myself, after what happened with Catherine."

"Huh?"

"I was frightened that I had lost you… because I had made the same mistake with you that I had with—"

"David?"

Michaela's eyes opened wide in astonishment. Could have Sully guessed? Or had David mentioned the incident to Sully, either to goad him, or to cast her in the unflattering light of excessive prudishness?

"I remember you tellin' me that he enlisted without so much as a warnin'… figured you two had some kinda bad fallin' out… and that only somethin' real serious could've made any man, in love with someone like you, willin' to just up and leave ya like that."

Michaela could only gape at her husband in astonishment. His astuteness was one of the qualities she treasured the most, but this time, she felt as if it was more like he was absolutely clairvoyant where she was concerned.

"He tried doin' somethin' he shouldna done, right?"

Michaela swallowed hard and averted her eyes… Had David really behaved disgracefully? She shook her head, as much to herself as to answer Sully's question.

"Not… not really. We had attended a recital much like the one you and I went to tonight…" She paused as the reality of the differences of her feelings toward her first fiancé and Sully appeared more clearly than ever. "After the concert, we went outside on the terrace, and we… _flirted_ … we were engaged by then, so at first I saw no harm in sharing a few kisses and loving words. Then… David recited the poems associated with the Liebestraume... The piece I reacted the most to earlier—the second movement? It is about… love—you know, er… between _lovers_."

Sully had no trouble at all imagining the whole scene. "I bet you jumped up like ya did when I first read Whitman to ya?"

"Yes… and yet, in a way, when you and I… " she blushed deeply, unable to verbalize the fact that many a time, even before they were engaged, she and Sully had found themselves in much more intimate situations while, somehow, she had not felt as threatened as she had with David that fateful evening. And even though her initial reserve toward Sully's physical demonstrations of affection had caused a severe misunderstanding when Catherine had made her appearance, Sully had not left for parts unknown afterwards. He had said, "I'll always be there." And indeed he had always been. His constancy was one of the many reasons she had been able to trust Sully in ways she had never let herself trust anybody else.

"You and me had our own ups and downs… our love's been tested often enough, and we sure had times when it was hard to stop at just— _a few kisses and loving words_ ," he elaborated for her.

Her cheeks reddening all the more, she nodded in acknowledgment. Though he wanted nothing more than to hold and kiss her, he restrained himself and instead, led her to the sitting area. He took his place next to her on the settee, after he had stoked the fire a little. He slipped his arm around her shoulders to draw her nearer, and started a gentle caressing of her nape. She shivered once more, but this time with delight. _Oh, the way he could touch her!_

"So, what was in those poems that made you fret, huh?"

She was then so at ease with him, that she didn't hesitate to tell him, though her blush didn't abate as she divulged the lyrics.

"All this fuss… it seems so silly now… isn't it?" she concluded with a wry smile.

"Not silly, no… it was sweet," Sully countered, his voice dropped to the softest tone. "See, the second and third kind of love, they can go t'gether… That's what we have, I reckon."

"You're righ—." She barely raised her hand to her lips in time to hide her yawn.

"How about we get out of these, and get toasty warm under the covers, hum?" Sully suggested with an indulgent grin and a playful tug on the back of her dress.

She acquiesced gratefully, and soon enough, they were lying together in bed, Michaela cuddled up to Sully's side, her head nestled onto his chest. She sighed deeply, feeling lighter as if she had let go of a burden. Yet the need to unite with her husband, to be as close _physically_ as she felt _emotionally_ with him right at that moment, was weighing down on her. It didn't feel oppressive, but merely as if she was languorously cocooned under a heavy eiderdown. She bit her lip, waiting for Sully to pick up on her mood and initiate their lovemaking, but it seemed that he didn't intend to. He simply hugged her close, kissing the top of her head now and then. She sighed again with a hint of impatience and pressed herself even closer, hoping he would understand. As her thigh came up across his, she felt his muscles clench through the light cotton of her nightshift, and perceived the very distinctive scent that let her know he was aroused as well.

Arching herself so she could peer up at him, she caught her breath as she beheld the way he was looking at her. Words were superfluous. And they both leant toward each other at the same time to share a long, gloriously sensual kiss, its intensity swelling like the highest tide. When they eventually broke the kiss off, they took a few seconds to take each other in, panting. Their desire hung so heavy between them they could almost touch it. All on her own, Michaela quickly shed her nightgown and held out her arms to him, a soft pleading moan escaping her throat.

Sully could have simply obeyed her mute request by joining their bodies, as soon as he had lowered himself on her, but instead, he took her hand and brought her fingertips to his lips, kissing each digit tenderly before guiding them down between their bodies to grasp his manhood and encourage her to actively join them together by herself. There was so much love, gentleness and devotion in his eyes that his maneuvers barely came as a shock to her. She followed his lead with absolute trust and was actually grateful that he was showing her a way of pleasing him.

They moved together in harmony, in passion and in unconditional marital love. And when they reached the ultimate state of bliss, they realized that they were indeed living out the most wonderful dream of love – their honeymoon with their true Soul Mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Upon Julia's Breasts  
> Display thy breasts, my Julia, there let me  
> Behold that circummortal purity;  
> Between whose glories, there my lips I'll lay,  
> Ravished in that fair Via Lactea.  
> Robert Herrick


	19. Berries...

_Sunday May, 29th, 1870_

The couple in the nuptial suite had a long restful night so, when they woke up the next morning, agreeably warmed by a bright sun and each other, they felt full of energy. Yet, the late hour and the prospect of church put paid to any desire to use that energy in making love, much to their chagrin.

Resigned, they curtailed what had begun to be their wakening ritual – long, sensuous, arousing kisses and caresses – lest they be tempted to remain in bed all day.

They dressed in a hurry and just made it in the doors of the church they had attended on the previous Sunday, both of them blushing a little when the regular congregants looked their way and wondered at their tardiness. The Reverend Carlyle presented a pleasant sermon, though much like the first time, the couple found it difficult to concentrate on the points he was making. This had Michaela wondering if she would ever be able to concentrate on sermons again!

Having decided before they left to once again rent a couple of horses to explore the area, they returned briefly to their hotel so that Michaela could change into her riding clothes, and to fetch the picnic basket the kitchen staff had prepared for them.

They stopped for lunch by a small creek. In some places the ground was still damp from the heavy rains earlier that week, and puddles of mud had not quite finished drying up. Sully found a firm spot to spread the blanket, and as they partook of delicious salad, composed of an unusual but tasty assortment of thin slices of raw ham and tomatoes, walnuts and roasted goat cheese on small round toasts, with a still warm loaf of cornbread to accompany it, they shared light-hearted memories from their younger years. It seemed that the events of the previous days had done more than knock down the walls of Michaela's apprehensions about performing the _wifely duty_. It had also unlocked the doors to some potentially sensitive issues from the past that might have remained untold for fear of hurting the other, of provoking jealousy or compounding insecurities. They had cleared some of the cobwebs during their counseling sessions with the Reverend, but although they had gotten to know one another quite well since they met, there were still so many things they had yet to learn about each other. _Oh, details, really…_

Sully remained succinct and a little evasive, as he was prone to be, but still he revealed precious tidbits of his odyssey from New York City to Colorado. Michaela felt like a prospector finding tiny gold nuggets with each anecdote, letting him talk – still she didn't dare press him for the details she longed for. Though she had no doubt of his love and devotion and was already grateful for whatever he was willing to share, the last thing she wanted was for her husband to shut her out from his confidence if he was finding her too pushy.

Another aspect of this conversation that she knew she would treasure for a long time was that he seemed so genuinely curious about _her_ past. He listened with sincere interest to the tales of her childhood, the many tiffs she had with her older sisters, her uneasy relationship with her mother, with its so rare open and all the more precious displays of affection, or the most interesting cases she had treated with her father. In turn he gave a few more details about his life with his mother and brother, and some of their happy times. Surprise and worry tugged at Michaela's heart, and she was again on alert, watching for signs of distress, in case such bittersweet memories were to bring about another migrainous episode.

Sully noticed the change in her posture and in the way she was looking at him and instantly realizing why, he took her hand and brought it to his lips.

"Michaela, stop worryin'! I love you for carin' so much, but I'm fine, honest. Thanks to you, to the way ya got me through all the pain from my past, it don't hurt no more," he assured her.

She smiled, and then leant in for a kiss. Just as their lips were about to meet, she said softly, "I'm glad. But I suppose I can't help feeling protective, mmh?"

Their kiss was soft, tender and eloquently spoke of their mutual gratitude, relief, and overall joy at sharing such precious moments together.

After they had packed away their lunch basket, the couple ambled through the woods, leading their horses by the bridles. The shade of the trees was pleasantly cooling as the air was starting to feel hot under the midday sun. As they had during their previous strolls, they thoroughly enjoyed everything threefold by the grace of being alone together and so much in love.

Michaela, who had always felt more comfortable with following schedules, keeping her mind and hands busy, and had for so long dreaded being alone with a man, was slightly amazed that she was thoroughly enjoying their present relaxed lifestyle. To the point that an inopportune guilt would occasionally come to grate at her conscience, a feeling she still managed to dismiss. Oh yes, she was lucky, blessed beyond belief, and the hedonistic part of her nature, which was now in full bloom, kept telling her that she had more than earned the right to enjoy herself and her husband's company for the time being, for such a state of bliss was so rare that it ought to be cherished and nurtured rather than being condemned. _Carpe diem_ … who knew what the future would bring them?

Sully noticed her contemplative mood, but refrained from commenting. It wasn't as if the silence between them was awkward or meant they had run out of subjects of discussion. He also wanted to allow Michaela to feel safe to talk or remain silent however she preferred. With the intimacy they now shared, on both emotional and physical levels, they had certainly made lots of progress in communicating their thoughts and feelings, which bode well for the future.

By mid-afternoon, they had wandered quite far from their starting point. They made a stop at the edge of the woods, near a wide meadow. A clear streamlet was snaking nearby, bringing its icy purity from the mountains towering above them. Sully went to fill their canteens, while Michaela sat on the mossy ground by a tall cottonwood, taking in their surroundings. Three years before, she had felt overwhelmed by the contrast between her city life in Boston, where even the vegetation was under man's control, and the wilderness of the Colorado territory which she had feared would swallow her whole. Now she didn't feel homesick in the least, and she no longer feared she might lose herself in the vegetal immensity around her. Thanks to Sully, and Cloud Dancing's teaching as well, she was now completely at ease in the wild.

Sully came back, their canteens in one hand, and in the other a small bundle of leaves, which he presented her as he plopped down by her side.

"What is it?" she asked, pleased surprise and curiosity dancing in her eyes.

For an answer, he quirked an eyebrow and with a small jerk of his head, indicated that she should undo the leafy wrapping. She complied and soon discovered a large handful of ripe, plump blackberries. Instantly, the bittersweet memory of that moment on the cliff, after he had rescued her from the Dog Soldiers, resurfaced.

"Wish I coulda found some honey to go with 'em," Sully said, almost apologetically.

"That's all right. These are fine — just fine," Michaela replied. "Just what I needed…"

She picked a couple of berries and popped them in her mouth, gazing straight at him all the time. Sully could easily guess what she was trying to do, and loved her all the more for it. If she was indeed letting him know they could still enjoy sharing such a snack without being disturbed by reminiscences laced with anguish, and that they could build new, more pleasant memories, then she was right!

He offered her another berry, and then picked one for himself. Though it was still early in the season, his harvest was ideally sweet and juicy. As they took turns feeding each other the tasty fruits, the tension between them began to subtly shift, the memory of the rescue being replaced by the one of their first evening in Denver, when they had shared strawberries, and it had quickly escalated. This time however, they tacitly agreed not to let their desire sweep them away, even though they were sure they were quite alone and unlikely to be interrupted by anyone. Mere brushes of lips at the corner of a mouth to remove a drop of juice or barely nibbling at fingers… Back and forth, they stirred and teased each other, slowly letting arousal suffuse them, yet cautiously limiting the touches. But their teasing game, as light as they had intended to keep it, was proving to be just as torturous and effectively provocative as would have been more direct touches and deep kisses, if not more, so they were almost glad when it ended with the last blackberry being consumed. Yet they couldn't resist one last kiss, the temptation was just too strong. It deepened dangerously fast, and in a matter of seconds, Michaela sank into Sully's arms, half sitting, half lying across his lap. Yet, as he felt his wife's movement of abandon, he instantly pulled away.

"Phew!" he exclaimed as he caught his breath. Michaela was breathing just as heavily, her cheeks turning a darker shade of pink at the realization of the state they were both in. She let out a tiny giggle, prompting him to chuckle, and soon they were roaring with laughter.

"Better start headin' back now, dontcha think?" he said, when he finally calmed down. She nodded, a trace of regret dulling for but a second the spark of anticipation that shone in her eyes, as she pictured what was to come when they would be back in their suite.

* * *

They hadn't realized they had gone so far from Denver, so they urged their horses into a faster pace for the last few miles to return their horses before sundown. When they arrived at their hotel they were quite hungry, but in no state of dress to go to the dining room. Sully ordered room service again, and they headed straight for their suite. They quickly freshened up and, by the time the waiter came in with their supper on his cart, they were more than ready for a good meal. The chef had outdone himself, treating them with tenderloin in a creamy, white wine-flavored sauce and an assortment of fresh, crisp greens.

As they had done with the berries, they fed each other bits and pieces. Only this time, they didn't refrain from surrendering to the temptation of their senses because of their location, but to heighten their sensations and the anticipation for their coming union. Again, the limited touches, the light, teasing kisses anywhere but on the other's lips, the smiles and smoldering looks created a slow but steady build-up of desire and suffused the atmosphere with such sensuality that they both wanted to sustain it for as long as they could.

They completely lost track of time. Each movement, each undoing of a button, each unknotting of ties, each touch or kiss, was slow and deliberate. Michaela could feel Sully's skin warming up and his blood surging through his veins under her fingertips. That warmth was spreading to her, through her, expanding to every cell until all that seemed to be left of her was hot, thick, pulsing liquid. Amazing how her feelings and perceptions varied from one encounter to another! Sometimes, her passion for her husband would feel violent, explosive and uncontrollable. Then at other times, it was more like a river flooding the plain after heavy rains. But however desire came to her, it seemed to have become irresistible over the course of the past few days.

By the time they joined together, they were already so deeply immersed into pleasurable sensations that they fell into some sort of languid, semi-conscious state, and then slowly drifted off to sleep, lulled by the echoes of their prolonged coupling that still reverberated in their bodies and souls.

* * *

_Monday May, 30th, 1870_

In the wee hours of the morning, when dawn laced the dark blue of the night with streaks of pearly gray, gold, and pink, Michaela awoke from deep, dreamless slumber, feeling something heavy pressing her down. She didn't need to open her eyes to realize what it was, and her lips curled up in a satisfied smile. Sully's head was pillowed on her breast, and he was actually still lying half across her, their legs intertwined. The fog of sleep dissipated within her as she reflected about the fact that Sully's weight, though it hampered her from moving, did not crush her, nor did it make her feel trapped or subdued. She only felt safe and loved…

Slowly, so as to not rouse him, she brought her hand to his head, and ever so lightly and tenderly, ran her fingers through his hair, savoring the feel of him sleeping so peacefully in her arms, as if she was protecting him from nightmares and further heartache. The conversation they had in the woods the day before replayed in her mind and she sighed contentedly, feeling luckier than ever. From what she had gathered from the many discussions with the ladies in the quilting circle, and from her own limited knowledge, most men never trusted women enough to be willing to open up about their past experiences and memories. Even those who were happily married like Grace or Myra. Sometimes that was under the guise of protecting them, but mostly because it simply wasn't done. Men were not supposed to let women see them vulnerable. With that, she could truly measure how different her relationship with Sully was – how equal.

 _Equal_ … well, almost. There was one domain in which she still felt slightly disadvantaged: the physical expression of her love for Sully. Under his patient guidance, she had certainly made progress in this area. Yet, when recalling all the times they had made love, she couldn't help but wonder if Sully, as attentive as he was to her needs, was having his own wants satisfied, too. Was there any chance that he could be regarding the time of their honeymoon as an obligation to initiate her into the many nuances and subtleties of the art of love?

She frowned a little, and took a sharp intake of breath, trying to figure out how she could ever broach the subject with him, without sounding impudent or silly… A soft caress of Sully's hand to her waist and ribcage startled her from her thoughts.

"Whatcha frettin' 'bout, now?" he asked. He eased up a little, so that he was completely blanketing her. She again drew in her breath as she felt his arousal pressing against her inner thigh, effectively distracting her from her previous thoughts. Unconsciously, she ran her tongue over her lips to moisten them, and raised her hands to lovingly cup his face. Gazing into his eyes as if mesmerized, she merely whispered: "Nothing… I…"

"You sure?" He writhed sensually against her, and accentuated his caresses over her rapidly warming skin.

"I— I don't remember," she breathed haltingly, letting out the telltale half-sigh, half-moan she always uttered when surrendering to his touch. She tilted her head back a little, offering her lips to his kiss.

Sully grinned. He couldn't guess what had gone through her mind a minute before, but the fact that she was responding so readily and instinctively to his desire pleased him beyond belief. The more they were together, the more they truly seemed unable to get enough of each other. So, he quickly gave in to her unspoken invitation, and shifted to join them as one. Only this time, he was met with… It wasn't quite resistance, but he simply didn't slip inside as smoothly and easily as usual. He gulped, realizing he might have misinterpreted the signals she had sent him, and that she wasn't fully ready for him… or maybe she has had enough, or was sore from their frequent encounters…? He could tell she was holding her breath, and her mouth and eyes were clamped shut, maybe to avoid wincing in pain. _Oh God, I'm hurtin' her!_ he reproached himself. He pulled back, inhaling deeply and silently ordering his body and mind to cool down.

"I'm sorry, 'Chaela," he gasped.

"Sorry?" She opened her eyes and peered up at him in bafflement, and her heart started to pound in panic. _What had she done wrong that had caused him to withdraw? Was he starting to lose patience with her, now? After more than a week into their honeymoon, and frequent intercourse, did he have some expectations that she failed to meet?_ Her mouth went dry as she tried to fathom what it could be, and twin red spots of shame appeared on her cheeks.

Sully picked up on her reaction, and realized she, too, had misunderstood him. As she averted her eyes in embarrassment, he placed a gentle finger under her chin so that she would look into his eyes and see the love there. He wondered once more what the matter was that had caused her to fret this much, and whether it was something he had done that had was causing her some distress. But given how difficult it was for her to openly discuss intimate matters, he knew he had to be the one to broach the subject, and get her to talk to him frankly.

"Yeah, for not waitin' for ya… I hurt ya, didn't I?"

She blinked, incredulous and more ashamed than ever. He had felt her body resisting his entry! She had failed to offer herself to him as completely as before. It hadn't been painful, just somewhat uncomfortable, so she shook her head.

"No, you didn't…" Her voice was hoarse from the nervous sob that was stuck in her throat.

Sully remained unconvinced. As earnestly as he could, yet gently as to not sound scolding or impatient, he said: "Don't you remember what I told you? Anythin' don't feel right to ya, anythin' you don't feel ready for, you just gotta tell me, or let me know in some way, hm? I promise ya, I won't mind… Nothin's more important to me than you."

Michaela couldn't answer, still ashamed. If anything, Sully's consideration of her needs only made her feel worse. This was exactly what had started the whole incident: her feelings of inadequacy returning with a vengeance, somehow out of the blue after the utter bliss she had known for the past days.

When he didn't get any verbal response, he forced a reassuring smile, knowing that pressing her might only worsen her discomfort, especially if she thought he was frustrated with her. He gave her a sweet kiss, and then announced: "Tell you what, let's order a big breakfast, and then we'll have a little chat 'bout what's been bothering ya. How's that?"

He kissed her a few more times and caressed her cheek until she acquiesced, almost reluctantly. He then rose from the bed and deliberately put on his buckskins and shirt. With a winning smile, he handed to Michaela the silk peignoir that had been left draped across the upholstered bench. She slipped into the garment without protest, though she would have preferred to get dressed altogether, and went to the bathroom to freshen up just as a waiter arrived a couple of minutes after Sully had pulled the cord to summon him.

After registering their breakfast order, his eyes lowered discreetly, the young man picked up the remnants of their supper and swiftly slipped out of the room. He had caught just a glimpse of the beautiful lady over whom the masculine staff of the hotel was almost fighting for the privilege of serving, if only for the pleasure of admiring her looks, hearing her soft, lilting voice… Not to mention that this couple gave more generous tips than wealthier patrons, and were both way more polite as well…

The waiter returned shortly bearing a large tray laden with heaping platters of buttered toast, warm cinnamon rolls and fruit, fragrant tea for Michaela and strong coffee for Sully in beautiful, delicate china. When he left again, he smiled to himself: not only did he receive another nice tip, but he had also managed to catch sight, however briefly, of the lady in a fancy negligee. He sighed dreamily as he returned to the reception hall: what a sight for sore eyes!

Michaela momentarily forgot her embarrassment and her eyes widened as she took in the lavishness of their breakfast.

"My, there's enough to eat for at least ten people! Are we expecting visitors?" she joshed.

Sully chuckled. "Guess whoever fixed our breakfast went a little overboard, huh? Dunno if you noticed, but the staff here is always very nice and helpful. D'ya think your Ma paid 'em extra so we'd be treated like royalty?"

"Not necessarily. The fact that we are staying in the largest suite, and paid up in advance, might be enough of a reason. That makes us good customers by essence," she reasoned.

Sully smiled, glad to see his wife returning to her normal self, thanks to a simple bit of casual conversation. He put the cups and the small jug of milk on the nightstand to avoid spills, and then set the tray on the bed.

"Breakfast in bed again?" Michaela remarked.

"Yep. You said yourself you could get used to doin' that… and to be honest, I could, too."

"Truly? You?" she wondered with a half, somewhat dubious smirk.

"Huh huh. I'm beginnin' to understand how easy it is to become spoiled…"

Michaela frowned, a bit affronted, and then sighed deeply, refraining from reacting to the sting of his words. They had already started the morning on the wrong foot, no need to add fuel to the uneasiness and have it blown into some silly argument just because she took his remark too personally.

Sully touched her brow and murmured, "What?"

She let out a wry giggle, "Guess I'm just in an odd mood this morning…" She didn't expect Sully to interpret her remark the way he obviously did. He instantly perked up, his eyes sparkling with uncontained hope. She bit her lip, loath to disappoint him yet again.

"I'm sorry, Sully. It doesn't mean I'm already pregnant."

"You sure? Could be an early symptom…"

"I'm sure. Even if we did conceive on our wedding night, it's too soon for me to feel anything… At least we can't pin our hopes on that at this point, with nothing else to back up any suspicion."

"Oh." He shrugged slightly.

"I'm really sorry," she repeated with a grimace, twisting her hands anxiously.

"Hey, hey, hey! Nothin' to be sorry for," he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, and giving her a reassuring hug. "I don't want ya to feel bad because I just can't wait for us to have a baby together. You're the doc, you know 'bout those things better than anybody. If you say it's too soon, then it is. Period."

"I can't wait either, you know," she confessed in a murmur. They shared a tender smile and kiss. He wanted to ask how much longer before she could tell for sure whether she was expecting or not, but thought better of it. He didn't want her to feel pressured. Besides, there was the more immediate topic of the mishap earlier that morning that commanded his attention.

He decided, however to wait till she had consumed her breakfast to bring up the matter, just in case she got upset. He had witnessed countless times when her emotions had robbed her of her appetite, when she had lost weight she couldn't afford to lose. Now he was quite happy to see such a healthy glow about her. He loved watching her eating so heartily and he aimed to keep it that way.

Glancing down, Sully noticed there was a small jar of thick, fragrant honey on the tray amidst the ones containing berry and peach preserves. They exchanged a significant look. Though they said nothing, each knew the other was again remembering that very precious moment in their courtship.

With a sly grin, Sully picked up the jar and a slice of bread...


	20. ... and Honey

Sully spread a spoonful of honey on the toast and handed it to his wife, then prepared one for himself. Their gazes fixed on one another, they munched quietly on the crispy bread.

"Which one d'ya want next?" Sully asked, his voice just a tad husky as he couldn't help being entranced by the shiny coat of honey on her lips and the way her tongue kept darting out to lick the sticky residue away.

Michaela knew her husband's body language well enough to tell that his amorous mood had returned and that he was itching to reenact the honey-laced kiss they had shared on that cliff. If she were honest with herself she wanted the exact same thing… and _more_. She wanted to let everything go in his arms, get consumed by passion in this special way propriety wouldn't have allowed a year before. Unconsciously, she touched her lips, inwardly wondering about the way the mere taste of honey, while she was alone with Sully, could so powerfully trigger the memory of a long-passed sensual experience. Instinct, desire, and curiosity about how another honey kiss would feel now, was urging her to lean toward him, and kiss him — to be the one to initiate. _Dare…! Dare…! Go on,_ her heart and body begged temptingly. But her doubts from earlier wouldn't let her.

Sully saw her paradoxical emotions flash across her beautiful features. If not for their interrupted loving earlier, he would have had no qualms about verbally encouraging her to act upon her obvious desire to relive that delicious, sensual honeyed kiss. But now he was also doubting his ability to read her mannerisms. They needed to clear the air before they allowed themselves to get swept away again. If he had learned anything about married life, from his first marriage to his observation of Cheyenne couples, it was the importance of total honesty. That the lack of the occasional frank talk, especially about embarrassing matters, only made problems worse, and caused molehills to quickly become mountains – or volcanoes!

When she answered with a careless shrug his casual question about the flavor of the next toast topping, he put raspberry preserve on another slice of bread and handed it to her. Once she had eaten it entirely, he felt the _right_ moment had come.

"'Chaela, about this mornin'…"

She took a sharp intake of breath and then averted her face, ashamed. But he quickly took her chin to redirect her gaze to him.

"Hey, I ain't bringin' this up to make you feel bad. I think it's just a little misunderstandin', and we gotta take care of it so it won't become a bigger problem later, all right?... _All right_?" he insisted until she nodded. "See," he went on, "so far we've been doin' great together, and there's no reason it can't stay that way. But I really need ya to tell me, to let me know in some way, when you ain't quite ready or if you just don't feel like it…"

Michaela tried to swallow the nervous lump that had reappeared in her throat.

"I don't… I don't think I can do that."

"Why not?"

Of course Sully knew what she meant, but he also knew that her inhibitions were the only thing still standing in their way and that he had to rely on his best allies to help vanquish her the remnants of her puritanical education: to balance her strong, logical common sense, with the sensual side of her nature.

"… Because I can't deny you th… _that_!" she sputtered, her voice reduced to a whisper on the last word as she lowered her eyes, mortified.

Sully refrained from smirking or looking appalled. Patiently he stated, "We talked about that, remember? Our first night here?"

She nodded reluctantly.

"If I just take care o' my needs, without makin' sure you want it as much as I do, I'm just gonna end up hurtin' ya, and that's the last thing I wanna do."

She took his hand, moved by his consideration, and gave it a loving squeeze. She was starting to feel quite silly, and she scrambled for the right words to explain her earlier mood.

"About this morning…" she began.

Sully gave her an encouraging nod and smile.

"I… I thought I was ready, I wanted us to… _you know_ … It's just that…"

"You were frettin' about somethin' at the same time… What was it? Tell me," he whispered lovingly.

Michaela bit her lip. This was the perfect opening. Their first morning as husband and wife, she had had the courage to ask. She could do it again, couldn't she?

"I was… that is, I wondered… You've been so patient, and loving, and attentive… and I was starting to feel that I wasn't giving you enough back…"

"Uhh?" Sully exhaled, dumbfounded. "That is what ya were worryin' about…? Oh, Michaela," he murmured with infinite tenderness. He raised his hand to cup her flushed cheek, caressing it with his thumb. "You got no reason to worry 'bout that, 'cause you're everythin' a man could hope for, and more."

"Am I, truly…? Are you sure there isn't some… _thing_ I'm supposed to do? That you'd expect me to—"

"'Chaela, this ain't about expectin' things from each other. Lovin' each other ain't about followin' some procedure like when you do some operation in your clinic!"

"But Sully, you were married before. And you know… you know what to _do_ ," she countered, blushing furiously at the underlying meaning of her words, picturing herself overcome with mind-blowing pleasure in his arms.

"It may look like that way to ya, but believe me, when I'm makin' love to you, I ain't thinkin' ' _Now I gotta do this like this, and then doin' somethin' that way_ '…"

Michaela's face burned as though a thousand white hot tiny needles were prickling her skin, from the images Sully was evoking in her mind. And soon both were chuckling at the ridiculousness of such a situation.

"I see your point," she managed to say between bubbles of laughter.

"Good," he replied with his customary little sort-of-smug smile. "And I still want ya to tell me whether you wanna make love or not. It's normal that sometimes I might wanna be with you, but you don't feel like it…"

"Well… I've been taught that, in that case, I should simply make an effort to… to go along," she confessed.

"Dontcha think that's unfair? What about the other way around? What if _you_ wanted to be with _me_ , but I wasn't feelin' good enough, wasn't in the mood, or whatever? Would you tell me to ' _make an effort_ '?"

"That's different, Sully," she squeaked, again uncomfortable because they were threading on the matter of those specific bodily functions. "You're a man… In order to… to be— to have _intercourse_ … you need to be—" she hesitated and then clamped her mouth shut, unable to utter the word for the condition.

Seeing how hard it still was for her to speak plainly, he silenced her by touching his pointer finger against her lips. "It ain't so different… Somethin' happens in a woman's body, too, when she wants ta make love. And you know that, you felt it. We both did… And since we're talkin' bluntly, I gotta tell ya, it feels much nicer to me when I can feel your body's ready for mine…"

If Michaela had been red in the face for most of their conversation, it was nothing compared to the effect Sully's last sentence had on her. She nearly fainted with both shock and a sudden onrush of arousal, her body reacting instinctively to the images rushing through her memory of them together, and the corresponding sensations. She could only nod again to signify that she had gotten the message loud and clear.

But Sully wasn't done yet. "So, next time we're about to make love, but you feel like I'm going a bit too fast for ya… if you can't say it with words, then just let me know in some way, like… I dunno, maybe ya could just gimme a little tap or push. Think you can work with that, hm?"

He leant closer and pressed a loving kiss to her temple, then another to her lips where he lingered a bit, but without deepening it. When he pulled back, he was pleased to see that Michaela was gazing back at him more confidently as she had all morning. She gave one last nod and breathed, "I'll try to remember that… I just hope I won't need to resort to such a…"

"Procedure?"

They both burst out laughing.

"See, we can sure hold an endless conversation over breakfast," Sully joshed, which sent them into another fit of laughter.

There were still a lot of things left to eat, and now that their light-hearted mood had been restored, they delved into it more heartily, and resumed feeding each other bits of toast.

At one point, one morsel, which was a bit too generously loaded, sagged from Sully's fingers just as he was offering it to Michaela. A heavy drop of raspberry preserve coated in butter fell onto the layers of lace that adorned the neckline of her negligee, and hurtled down to land on the silk across her lap, leaving a long streak of dark pink juice in its wake.

"Oh nooo!" Michaela lamented, dabbing at the nasty stain with a napkin.

Sully grimaced, "I'm sorry," he winced. "Can you fix it, or have it fixed?"

Michaela shook her head desolately.

"I don't think so… I could try. Martha, my mother's chambermaid, can clean just about anything… she often performed wonders with some of my dresses when I was a little girl… But honestly I can't see how even _she_ could remove this kind of stain on such a fabric without damaging it."

"Maybe one of the maids here knows how," Sully suggested hopefully. He really loved how his wife looked in the luxurious garment, and he'd hate to see it wasted so soon, because of his carelessness.

Michaela felt momentarily flustered as she envisioned herself asking one of the maids to clean _this_ particular piece of clothing. It wasn't just one of her plain robes or demure, long-sleeved and high-collared nightgowns from home. Her reason told her that the hotel staff had an obligation to discretion and had certainly seen plenty of honeymooning couples coming and going, so her request wouldn't be quite out of the ordinary. Still, she felt embarrassed.

"I'll… I'm going to the bathroom, to soak it in some water in the washbasin… I'll be right back."

She gave him a quick kiss, showing him she wasn't _that_ upset with him for ruining her peignoir, and scurried off to the washroom.

She came back a couple of minutes later, one of the large hotel towels wrapped tightly around her and tucked in firmly above her breasts.

"You expectin' visitors?" Sully teased, pointing at the towel.

"Sully, I couldn't stand around with nothing on," she chided.

"Why not? It's just me in here," he challenged her in a light tone, as if her nakedness was nothing at all.

Michaela froze. She certainly didn't need to hide anything from Sully, he had seen her unclothed often enough, after all. Their door was locked… and it was clear he would like nothing more than for her to drop the towel. _Dare…! Dare…!_ repeated the voice in her mind. "Alright then," she murmured, and with a rash burst of boldness, she rid herself of the cloth. Her cheeks on fire, she cast a glance at Sully who was literally gaping at her with a mixture of delighted surprise and unmitigated lust. She couldn't suppress a satisfied half grin as she stretched out on her side upon the bed and resumed their earlier activity by picking up the toast with honey she had prepared earlier and offering it to him, bite after bite.

"Next?" she asked in a breathy voice, her eyes traveling back and forth between his penetrating gaze and his mouth. She was so mesmerized that she barely reacted when he rasped "You!", nor did she move when he picked up the tray to put it on the console table near the window then divested himself of his clothes. He came back to the bed, his member proudly erect. Michaela gasped, awed by the sight of him, and gladly welcomed the feel of her own body responding without reserve, the telltale signs of her arousal making themselves known with unprecedented intensity. She was certain that this time, she was fully ready, which meant that he would be pleased with her – and that she was sure to enjoy their coming encounter.

Suddenly she noticed something unusual in his posture as he reclined on the bed next to her.

"What is it that you're hiding behind your back?" she asked.

Smiling mischievously, Sully produced the small pot of honey with a flourish. Michaela raised her eyebrows wondering what he planned to do with it. She got her answer soon enough as he seized her hand and dipped her fingers in the jar before bringing them to his mouth.

"We're going to put honey everywhere," she warned half-heartedly, not really caring.

"Nah, we'll be careful…" he assured. Then, with an almost unbearable sensuousness, he slowly suckled and licked her fingers clean, the sensation so incredibly erotic that she could only sit, spellbound, all her senses on fire. The last tiny strip of her consciousness marveled at how she hadn't melted completely away already. She wasn't even fully conscious as she reciprocated, but nothing could have stopped her from submitting him to the same torture. What brought her back to the reality of her actions was that the feel of his honey-coated fingers as she took them in her mouth and as her tongue wrapped around them, was just as aphrodisiac. It was more than suggestive of their bodies locked together in the supreme act of love, and it made her long for their union even more. Sully had asked her to let him know when she wasn't ready, but what about when she was more than ready and about to expire from the now almost painful pressure of arousal between her legs… A few days before, she had had the audacity to ask Sully directly that he make love to her, spurred by her emotions running so high after the poetry reading. _Dare!_

Sully too was losing complete control over what was happening. He had not expected his experiment to turn so quickly into something so… _stimulating_ – to say the least. His wife only had to sweep her tongue around his fingers once to make him lose all focus. He closed his eyes, aching terribly from the potency of his arousal and fearing being unable to withstand it long enough to pleasure her as well. Just then, he heard her call to him.

"Sully…"

Her voice was pleading, even desperate. Her eyes were nothing but two immense dark pits of raw need. She could say nothing more, so she wrapped her arms around his neck and crashed her lips onto his, deepening the kiss instantly, tasting the honey still warm and sweet on his tongue. As he responded to her kiss with as much fervor, she slowly rolled onto her back, pulling him down with her, and readily spread her legs so that he could settle between them. Her arm slid down the length of his back until her hand came to rest on his buttock. _Dare! Dare!_ She clutched it firmly and tugged his hip forward, signaling without any possible doubt that she wanted him to join with her right away. Mercifully, he complied and they both let out loud sighs of relief, chuckling softly as they realized that the other's torment had been just as oppressing as their own. Soon they were moving together urgently, seeking a fast release to which they acceded within minutes. Both groaned from the sharp bolt of pleasure that struck them.

Yet, in spite of how impulsive and frenzied their lovemaking had been, there remained their awareness of each other, a need for closeness and tender caresses, as they cooled down and caught their breath. Sully rested his forehead in the crook of Michaela's neck, his lips pressed to her collarbone, inhaling her wonderful fragrance. He mused about their eventful morning and the import of what had transpired between them. If anything, the incident earlier now appeared beneficent to him, as it had allowed them to reach a new level of understanding.

He smiled to himself as he felt Michaela's arms tighten their hold around his back when he eventually slipped free, then raised his head to be able to look at her face. Her eyes were shimmering dreamily, her pupils still wide. Her lips still held a luscious, gleaming swell as if honey was seeping from them, enticing him to taste her again. He couldn't resist that mouth.

Michaela couldn't resist Sully's kiss either, especially in her dizzy state. She opened her mouth to him greedily, endlessly starved for the warmth of his breath, for how he tasted. Their most recent interlude might have felt good and provided a much-needed relief to their lustful urges, but the satisfaction had been only momentary – not to mention superficial, a bit like a medication against the pain that only managed to take the edge off it… She still needed more of the cherished oneness she experienced when they were making love deeply and soulfully. She needed the bright, heavenly light of pleasure to suffuse her, envelop her, rather than shoot through her like a thunderbolt, blinding and then evanescing like a mirage.

Sully could tell from her response to his kiss, from the way she was clinging to him, and from the caressing move of her knee up his thigh that she was still caught up in a passion-filled daze, and very possibly willing to make love again. It made him wonder whether he had managed to satisfy her earlier. In fact, as much as he had needed that quick way to release all the pent-up desire that had been building in him all morning, he also felt shards of guilt tearing at him: in his book, he had just acted like all those men who used women's bodies only to relieve their animalistic instincts. It certainly hadn't brought that deep fulfillment he had started to grow accustomed to when being with his wife. And she deserved much better.

An idea struck him. Pulling back, he snatched the honey jar from its precarious position at the edge of the nightstand, where he had pushed it hastily a few minutes ago.

"What are you doing?" Michaela asked.

"I ain't done with breakfast yet," he intoned suggestively, plunging his finger into the thick nectar. He then dabbed a trail from the hollow of her throat, down the valley between her breasts to her navel, and then he cleaned the sweet path back up using his lips and tongue. How he enjoyed her reaction! The unsteady rise and fall of her chest as she let out her breath in short pants… the way she shuddered, her skin erupting in dense gooseflesh… her entire body flushed with amorous fever… Proud with himself, he redoubled his ardent ministrations, this time drawing concentric circles on her breasts, their peaks growing hard and taut under his fingers. While he licked away the honey, his other hand crept down to the juncture between her legs, and began exploring the soft inflorescence of flesh there, instantly prompting an even stronger reaction from her.

Michaela barely had time to figure out what her husband intended to do before pleasure reclaimed its hold on her the moment he touched her. Again she found herself quickly in dire need for release, and each brush of his lips, each nibbling, each stroke of his tongue on her skin only fueled that need. When he began caressing her between her legs, she uttered a long, loud moan. Her back arched up and her hips tilted forward, her whole body instinctively seeking more of his touch.

Though the sight of his wife, not to mention the feel of her, in the throes of passion, was incredibly arousing, Sully hadn't yet recovered enough from their previous intense encounter to embark upon another. But he had noticed she didn't have to put up with this kind of… _inconvenience_ , on the few occasions he had succeeded in bringing her to the ultimate pleasure two or three times in a single congress. He pondered his options: should he keep on teasing her with kissing honey off her body until he was once again fully aroused himself, or should he intensify his caresses to her most sensitive areas? The decision was quickly made as he thought that this might be a perfect occasion to show her that sometimes love and sensual gratification could be given freely, without expecting anything in return, and that he was as intent to please her as she was toward him.

He scooped one last sample of honey with two fingers and put the pot back on the nightstand. Slowly but determinedly, he traced a winding line starting at her knee up to her upper inner thigh. Then, as his mouth followed the honey track, he thought about what he was about to do. Something he knew could be done to give women the utmost form of pleasure. During his time as a young miner, and then later hanging around the Cheyenne braves, he had heard many a ribald comment about the various ways to enjoy a lady's company. Throughout his first marriage, his physical relationship with Abagail had been marked by their mutual innocence and complete lack of experience as they were both virgins. They had sure felt clumsy and shy, so they had kept to the basics right up until they learned Abby was pregnant. Back then, he would have never dreamed of getting as adventurous and imaginative as he could be in Michaela's presence.

Yes, she had a way of stirring all his instincts, the most tender, protective – the most sensual, too. Michaela had always had that power over him, even in the early days when she had been so reserved and shied away from his demonstrations of affection. Her unimaginable responsiveness to his loving since the beginning of their honeymoon had only reinforced that influence.

As he drew closer to his goal, he could perceive more clearly her intimate scent. What was it in this indefinable, volatile feminine essence that could enrapture his senses so suddenly and strongly? Or was it only because he loved and wanted her so much that everything about her couldn't be anything but perfect and desirable…? All he knew was that he suddenly craved to taste her there as much for his own pleasure as for hers.

Michaela had reached the point where she barely had enough breath left to voice her enjoyment, her state of consciousness oscillating between mindlessness from the voluptuous sensations elicited by her husband's mouth and hands, and a heightened awareness that _he_ was doing all of this to her, that _he_ was the only one who had the power to subjugate her like this…

Dazzled by the fire burning within, she had to close her eyes so, when his hands gently grabbed her knees to spread her legs a little further apart, she assumed he was going to join with her once more. She savored the soft palpitation of her womanhood anticipating the so wonderful feel of him inside her and the fulfillment it was in itself. But instead of the expected sensation, she felt once again the stickiness of the honey upon her skin, this time on her thigh. She caught her breath, thinking _what a rascal!_ But her amusement vanished when his kisses got dangerously close to her private parts, and she would have recoiled in embarrassment, maybe even pushed him away in disgust when his lips brushed against the highly sensitized flesh, had the sensation not been so… _oh my God what was that?_

Sully felt the sudden tensing of her body at the first contact. Had it been unpleasant to her?

"You all right? Want me to stop?" he asked, trying to mask his own anxiousness. Too stunned to formulate a coherent answer, she remained motionless, while Sully waited with bated breath, unsure about what to do. He caressed her belly tenderly, and was relieved to see her relax a little. Her hand came to find his, their fingers lacing together, and a small squeeze from her was all the approval he needed to go on. Yet, he felt compelled to inquire, "Trust me?" He saw her nodding, and her eyes opened a sliver to look down at him, while her grip on his hand grew firmer.

"Yes," she answered, her voice coming in a harsh murmur.

From that moment on, she lost all control on herself, letting the feel of Sully's mouth, his tongue, his very breath, transport her to one kind of heaven she had never imagined. Indeed, she had never dared picture herself being kissed right _there_ , especially with this much love and care, and enjoy it so immensely. In a very short time, hot, powerful spasms radiated from her womb, down her legs and up her spine. Her heart beat so fast and erratic that it felt it could stop any second. Her mind went completely blank, and then she expired with one long, drawn-out, totally uninhibited cry. _How could one person know such ecstasy without dying…?_

She had no idea how much time had passed as she eventually came back to her senses. Tremors were still coursing over her skin now and then, and her limbs felt heavier than lead, a deeply contented lethargy blanketing her.

Sully was lying alongside her, propped up on his elbow, gazing down at her.

"You look very pleased with yourself, Mr. Sully," she remarked hoarsely. Sully's grin widened.

"Huh-huh…"

He snuggled closer to her, and planted a loud smooch just below her ear.

"Mmmh, you sure taste good, _Honey_ ," Sully teased with a playful smirk. Michaela pulled away from his embrace and cut her eyes at him, flushing scarlet.

"Don't you dare call me that in public," she hissed. Yet, the slap she gave his shoulder and the crinkle around her eyes that hinted at a smile were good-natured, so Sully knew she wasn't as offended as her tone suggested.

"Not a chance," he breathed, plunging to kiss the curve of her neck greedily, nuzzling and nibbling his way back up to her ear. "Besides, callin' ya Honey wouldn't do you justice. You're much... much... sweeter," he added in a provocative, breathy whisper.

"We're all sticky," she remarked again. Sully stopped immediately his amorous advances as he had clearly heard the warning in her voice. It was so subtle it might have gone unnoticed, but one glance at her face was enough to confirm his doubts. She needed a respite. He smiled tenderly at her, glad she had managed to convey her needs and wants, even in an indirect way.

"You're right. Time for a bath!" he announced, rolling out of bed and coming to her side to scoop her in his arms and carry her to the bathroom, both giggling giddily like children.


	21. Keeping Score

Knowing his wife would be uncomfortable with men from the staff traipsing into the bathroom, Sully thanked and tipped the bellboys at the door to their suite after they had deposited several buckets of hot water inside. Then, he proceeded to fill the large tub with the water himself. When he was finished, Michaela, once again wrapped in the large towel from earlier, her hair pinned up to protect it from getting wet, picked up her bottle of bath salts. Before she tipped it into the bath water, she asked, "Do you want to get in first this time?"

Sully turned to look at her, and with a suggestive grin, answered, "Why don't we get in together? Tub's large enough for two of us…" In one smooth move, he discarded the bedcover he had wrapped around his waist and extended his hand to her. She couldn't find a single reason to refuse the invitation both in his words and in his demeanor. Besides, she was more determined than ever to do anything he asked ofher. So, she readily settled in his arms once they had both climbed in. She sighed, half from contentment, half from frustration. Upon waking up a few hours before, she had wondered about how to reciprocate her husband's many attentions to her, and now, if anything, she felt even more indebted. And then she worried that he might perceive her renewed nervousness… what if he grew impatient with her constant fussing?

Sully couldn't see her face, but he could feel that she wasn't as relaxed as she ought to be. He wondered if she was embarrassed from what he had done, now that she had fully regained her senses. Was she embarrassed by the pleasure she had felt? He recalled her confession about how she had been taught that as a woman she had no right to expect pleasure all on her own, and how she considered ita duty – her _wifely duty_ – to please him at all costs. He had obviously fooled himself into thinking they had gotten past that particular misconception of hers…

"Whatcha thinkin' about?" he asked very softly against her ear, keeping his tone loving and patient. Although he could guess, he thought it would be better to coax her into admitting her remaining insecurities and misgivings. After waiting a moment, he tenderly rubbed her arm.

Michaela took a deep, steadying breath, truly hating feeling so torn between the one part of herself which wanted to simply relax, enjoy her time alone with Sully and lavish him with the same kind of love he was showering her with, and the other part she had forgotten for a while, the insecure and helpless part, that wouldn't let her. Trying to vanquish it was beginning to feel like fighting the mythological Hydra… But wasn't she just being ridiculous…? She swallowed the lump of uneasiness stuck in her throat and tried to formulate an appropriate, yet truthful answer:

"A variety of things…" She sank a little deeper into his embrace, relishing the support of his strong arms wrapped around her. "How blessed I am… how much I love you…" _Out with it, girl!_ "How I want to… to make you happy…" _Humph, coward…_

"Well, you sure do _that_. Maybe I should pinch myself to make sure I ain't dreamin', but then I'm scared to wake up," he stated, and then pressed a kiss into her hair, and tightened his hold a little more.

His response sounded reassuringly genuine, which encouraged her.

"I mean—Sully, when I told you that I felt as if I wasn't giving you enough in return, I… I _meant_ it. And now… with what happened just after breakfast…what you did… for me…" She couldn't conclude.

Sully wasn't sure about how to address this: if he laughed, he might make her feel as if he wasn't taking her concerns seriously, and if he was being too assertive, it might confirm her belief that she had to submit to him because he was the husband… _There were no maps_. He had to take the risk of choosing one path and assume the consequences.

"Do we really gotta keep score? 'Chaela, you're makin' me the happiest man on Earth. I ain't expectin' more from ya than what you're already givin' me. When will ya believe me?"She gave his arm a shy squeeze, so he went on, "But I understand why you feel like that. I kinda feel the same… Remember last week when we climbed to that cliff? I told ya I'd give you the world, and more, if I could."

"Yes, I remember," she acquiesced in a low voice. He was right, which made the source of her anxiety seem more irrational by the minute.

"Tell me somethin'… What if I kept askin' _you_ what I gotta do to be a better husband to you, huh? What would _you_ say?"

Sully's astute tactic of turning the tables on her once more proved to be the surest way to convince her. She found herself unable to answer anything and shifted so she could peer up at him in awe. Her face eventually broke into a sheepish smile.

"Do I look as foolish as I feel?" she said with a sort of wince in her voice that made it sound almost childlike.

Sully grinned back and chuckled softly. "Nope. I think you look beautiful even when you think too much," he teased. His hand came up to stroke her nape as he bent his head to first kiss her brow, as if to smooth away the worried crease there, and then her mouth. His kiss was deep and slow, and held that sort of quiet, soulful passion with which he had kissed her during some of the most meaningful moments of their life together. This was the kind of kiss she loved best, for it was the most emotionally fulfilling – it warmed her straight to her soul and nothing could make her feel more loved and secure. Even after they had broken apart, they remained close, each absorbing the love that emanated from the other like an aura.

Sully, knowing they couldn't linger indefinitely in the water, eventually took a cloth and lathered it up with soap. _Her_ soap. That clean, sweet, flowery fragrance that, combined with her natural essence, formed such a unique, heady scent… it had never failed to stir him and this time was no exception. However, he had to keep his desire in check until Michaela would give her assent again, even if that meant he might have to wait a while. He took a deep steadying breath, and began washing the remaining traces of honey off her skin, trying to keep his moves steady – and neutral. Had their morning not been so busy, he would have had no qualms about using the cloth and his hands to stimulate her most sensitive places. But that would be for another time…

So attuned with him was she that Michaela perceived the restraint in her husband's gestures. She had no doubt that under different circumstances, he might have transformed their bath into another sensual experience – _Admit it, Michaela, you wouldn't have minded at all_ , she thought– and that the reason he wasn't doing so was only because he wanted to give her some rest. Perhaps if he had kept his distance from her, she might have interpreted it as a sign of dissatisfaction or boredom. But his everlasting tenderness was enough to assure her of his feelings. How blessed she was indeed!

She had no trouble either to understand his refusal when she swiveled around and reached out to take the cloth from him.

"Er… 'Chaela, might not be a good idea that you wash me…" He didn't elaborate, but raised his eyebrows meaningfully, as they both recalled that time a few days before when they had cleaned each other. Michaela's cheeks colored a little as she pictured Sully getting potently aroused from her touch in a matter of seconds, then abruptly getting out of the tub, barely taking the time to towel himself dry and carrying her to the bed for a torrid night of love, only to end with a bout of migraine in the morning… She fleetingly wondered if maybe he also felt the need for some respite from all their bedroom activities, whether he realized it or not.

She leaned forward to give his cheek a soft kiss, then rose and got out of the tub. She couldn't resist giving him another kiss before she left the room. As her face hovered above his, they exchanged a look where understanding and gratefulness melded, both aware that they parted only to better reunite later.

* * *

While they were getting ready to head out, Michaela asked, "Sully, would you mind if we wired home this afternoon? I want to know how the children are doing with Mother and my sisters."

"'Course I don't mind. I'd like ta know, too," he said. "After all, they're my family, now."

This simple statement struck Michaela speechless for a few seconds. It was true. By marrying her, not only did Sully strengthen his position of father figure to the Cooper children, but he had also become a member of the Quinn clan. This gave her an odd sort of thrill, since she still wondered whether her mother had truly and unconditionally accepted her love for Sully.

"Somethin' on your mind?"

His question startled her and she realized she'd been staring at the dresses in her wardrobe, lost in her thoughts.

"Yes," she answered softly, almost to herself. "I was thinking about Marjorie. She's—" She hesitated, wondering if she could divulge the grim details of her sister's wrecked marriage. "She's been ill. I treated her as soon as I found out about her condition but…"

"She looked pretty fine at the weddin', you musta done good."

"That's true, she seemed much better… I suppose, as a doctor, I'm always on guard for possible relapses," she concluded with a half-smile.

Sully chuckled and teasingly kissed the tip of her nose. "You've been known to do that on occasion…C'mon, let's send that wire and see how they're all doin'…"

After a light late lunch in the hotel tearoom, they headed directly for the telegraph office, and then went to the stores where they had spotted potentially interesting items to bring back to the children. They had a hard time deciding what to buy in the end, as they couldn't seem to find a consensus on anything. Yet they only laughed their disagreement off and worked out a compromise, under the indulgent or impatient look of the shopkeepers.

They brought the packages to their room and, as dinner time was approaching, Sully suggested they go out again. He had noticed a place on their way back to the hotel, a pub called _The Four-Leaf Clover_ , which had appeared friendly and cozy and had appealed more to him than the neighboring saloon. Though he had never seen his parents' homeland, he knew that those _public houses_ were widespread in England and Ireland, and were beginning to be rather popular as well in the working-class districts of large cities such as New York or Boston… The one in Denver displayed a huge signboard indicating the specials of the day, advertising for their many varieties of beer and whiskeys and in capital, bold letters, announcing that an Irish band was scheduled to play that night.

They both enjoyed the casual atmosphere, the lively music and the hearty, delicious meal. They even felt adventurous enough to taste some of the house's best-selling ale, and shared more than a few chuckles as they imagined Hank's face and comments if he knew they had both sampled beer. However, they didn't linger long, for tobacco fumes were starting to invade the room making Michaela cough, and the music could barely be heard over the loud guffaws of a group of rather rowdy customers.

Outside, the sun was only a few minutes away from disappearing behind the mountain range, tingeing the landscape with the soft rosy hue of summer evenings. In contrast with the stale odors of sweaty males, greasy fried foods, old alcohol and cold tobacco of the pub, the early summer night air smelled all the more sweet, fresh and pleasantly intoxicating. Before returning to their quarters, the couple tacitly agreed to take a long digestive walk.

Their steps seemed to naturally lead them to the park where they were getting used to going. It was obvious from the number of people filtering in and out through the gates that Michaela and Sully were far from being the only ones to want to enjoy the outdoors on such a lovely summer evening. They finally found an empty bench, half hidden by a thick shrub several feet from the path. There, they found a semblance of privacy. The hum of human conversations receded while the chorus of crickets chirping their nightly song was slowly rousing to serenade the few couples lingering in this less frequented area of the park.

The newlyweds sat in companionable silence for a little while, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, hugging her close, while his other hand held hers against his heart. It began with his thumb drawing small circles on the back of her hand, ever so lightly, and then their fingers threaded and re-threaded together.

"I love you," she murmured as she turned her head to place tiny kisses to his neck and jaw.

"I love you too… More than I can ever tell or show ya," he replied, looking so deep into her eyes she felt he could see her straight down to her soul. He lovingly ran the back of his finger down her cheek, his whole heart in his eyes. Slowly bending his head, he purposefully drew out the moment, and whispered against her lips: "My Heartsong." The word, its meaning and the intensity in his declaration pierced through her heart, the sweet shock of it sending tremors through her flesh. Her mouth opened under his without reserve, and they remained like this, lost in an endless kiss, affirming their love over and over, oblivious to everything around them…

Indeed, they didn't notice a groundskeeper carrying out his last round of the evening, nor did they register his words to a few other remaining visitors.

"Park closes in fifteen minutes, folks. Good evening."

The man approached a bench where a couple was snuggling and stopped short. He could tell they were kissing passionately, even with their backs to him and the bush half hiding them. He knew he had to make them leave, and he also should scold them for their improper behavior, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to do that. Feeling like a peeping tom for standing a few feet from such an intimate scene, he resumed his rounds, waiting until he had walked a few more yards to shout around:

"Ladies and Gents, the park is closing. Please make sure you're not forgetting anything as you leave."

The loving couple broke apart, and Sully chuckled, "Reckon we'd better find a better place to kiss than this park, or one of the keepers gonna end up throwin' us out."

"Do you think he saw us?" she asked, coloring a little as she needlessly put some order into her clothes and hair.

"Hard to say… C'mon, let's go."

* * *

They took their time walking back to the hotel, reluctant to put an end to the lovely evening. Yet at the same time, the slow motion only increased Michaela's returning nervousness. Despite Sully's adjurations that he was happy and fulfilled, she remained unable to shake off the nagging feeling that she _owed_ him. But every time she pictured herself reciprocating what he had done to her, especially since she was well aware that it was something a lot of men appreciated, the lump in her throat grew heavier and her resolve was slowly crumbling. Her rationality and her knowledge of the human body told her why this could indeed be a way to please him, and maybe to be able to give him physical satisfaction when she herself didn't feel up to intercourse, but something in her, perhaps her subconscious, reeled at the prospect. Over the course of their relationship, Sully had patiently helped her push her limits and overcome so many inhibitions. But this particular taboo? He hadn't asked for it, not even hinted that he wished for her to do something like that. She couldn't figure out how to let him know she was willing to give it a try without totally embarrassing herself, when the sole fact that she caught herself thinking such brazen thoughts about her husband was enough to make her want to disappear. And how could she do something like that without at least some kind of guidance from him?

When they eventually arrived in their suite, Sully led his wife to the balcony, hoping to help her release the tension he could feel coming from her. He didn't even need to look at her expression or the way her shoulders were set to know, for her mood radiated from her in invisible waves that reached him in a succession of tiny impacts. A bit like a Morse Code message only he could decipher. He smiled to himself at the comparison and drew Michaela into his arms. He rocked her gently, kissed the back of her hair, and rubbed her arms and shoulders soothingly, with very little effect. Again he guessed what could be a dozen reasons why she might be on her guard, but he forced himself to wait patiently.

Michaela was actually waiting for him to initiate their next encounter. She didn't just expect it, but she _needed_ it. She needed only a sign, a kiss… a suggestive caress – anything that would indicate he wished to be intimate with her. Again she was assailed with contradictory feelings. Her intuition urged her to be the one to make the first move, guessing that Sully would welcome her taking the initiative, while on the other hand a loud warning kept echoing in her mind, _You are NOT to impose yourself on your husband, you ARE to wait for him to decide_. But he seemed content with simply standing there, embracing her. They had been having such a nice evening, why risk spoiling everything with such unnecessary fuss…? She willed her uncertainties to quiet down, and allowed herself to follow his example, letting the calm and sweet atmosphere suffuse her.

Thus, they stayed on the balcony until nightfall. When Michaela shivered from the contrast between the warmth of Sully's embrace and the coolness of the air that was descending from the mountains, he said, "Let's get back inside. Don't wantcha to catch a chill."

He left the French window slightly ajar, just enough to allow the fragrant night breeze in, and joined Michaela near the bed. She was undressing already, and was presently squirming to reach the buttons at the back of her bodice.

"Here… let me," he murmured. She stood still, waiting anxiously to see what he would do next, most of all _how_ he would proceed. She secretly hoped he would seize the occasion… she wished she could send him a silent message through the exposed skin of her nape, that she needed his mouth there. The warm flush of desire was invading her body already – maybe he would sense it?

Sully's hands were on her bared shoulders, and he slowly turned her to face him, their eyes meeting. Hers were once more veiled with longing. Her breath had quickened slightly. His eyes dropped to her lips, noticing how the tip of her tongue furtively sneaked out to moisten them… His pulse quickened, and he could tell from the way her eyes darted from his face to his neck and back up again and the intensifying of her own reactions, that not only was she very much aware of his desire, but she was responding to it.

One word, one move from her was all he needed, and he would happily surrender.


	22. Who's the Boss?

Michaela could see her husband wanted her. She could feel his desire, like a warm current seeping through his skin to get to her blood. She felt the clenching of the muscles of his arms under her fingers, his breathing and his pulse accelerating along with hers. He had to be aware of her mirroring reaction, given the way he was gazing at her, yet he didn't act upon their obvious mutual desire the way he normally did… She understood he was waiting for her. He was still holding onto his promise to give her all the time she needed, bless his heart.

The decision was quickly made. Rising on her tiptoes, she cupped his face in both hands, and claimed his lips with hers.

It was all they both needed.

Sully's senses reeled from her kiss… so sweet and soft, and yet intensely soulful, so quintessentially _her_. The sensuality of her profound nature, intimately laced with the pure ingenuousness of her heart, all conveyed through her tender touch… How could she doubt her ability to please him when she only had to kiss him like this to put him under her spell? How could she ignore the power she had over him?

 _Power_ … An idea came to him. He broke the kiss momentarily to cast off his clothing at lightning speed, and then stood there, his arms spread out in that familiar way whenever he was encouraging her to come to him.

She obeyed his mute request, and just a second before she kissed him again he murmured in a slow, seductive way, "I'm all yours."

Something in his demeanor told her that there was more to his words than just a declaration of devotion – a challenging overtone in the twinkle in his eyes and his slight half-smile. Her heart fluttered from both excitement and nervousness. Could it be that, in spite of telling her that she was not under any obligation to reciprocate, he had guessed somehow that she still felt indebted to him and that she truly needed to pay him back in some way?

Though she couldn't entirely suppress the occasional trembling of her hands, she still finished undressing, resolutely pushing down her dress and many undergarments. She took a deep breath as she stood as naked as he was and shyly looked back up at him, her heartbeat going all the more uneven as she noticed that her husband was already fully aroused. One might think such a sight would have become customary enough to her that she would only smile, knowing she was the one who made that remarkable thing happen to him. Yet she still felt just as awestruck as she had been the first time she had witnessed it.

To encourage and reassure her, Sully whispered again, " _All_ yours…" and he was rewarded by the touch of her small, soft hands on his hips and another intense kiss. Without the benefit of the heels of her shoes, Michaela had to stand on her tiptoes, pressing herself closer into him, and wrapping an arm around his neck for balance. Emboldened with Sully letting her set the pace, she was the one to actively coax his lips apart so she could deepen the kiss further. She was the one to seek his tongue… He growled softly in approval, while she brought her other arm up, hanging onto his neck with all that was left of her strength, her legs feeling weak and wobbly. The kiss went on and on, as Michaela debated inwardly about how to proceed next. She pictured herself pushing Sully onto the bed, but somehow couldn't find the nerve to simply do it, for her intended following action still felt so hard to contemplate at all.

As much as he would have preferred to let her figure out what she wanted to do and act upon it entirely on her own, Sully knew that he still needed to give her a few nudges now and then to help her along until she had enough self-confidence to completely take matters in her hands whenever she would feel like it. He picked her up, grabbing her under the thighs, and let himself fall backwards onto the bed, eliciting a squeal of surprise from her. She ended up straddling his hips in such a way that she couldn't ignore his intentions. Indeed, she averted her eyes for a second, a deep blush coloring her cheeks, before returning her gaze in astonishment to his as he stated, "You're the boss."

Michaela felt her heart drop, then flutter and speed up out of control, unsure whether it was from excitement or fear. By fully handing her the reins, he was accepting to be at her mercy. But could she handle all that power over him? Moreover, could she handle listening to what her heart and body were urging her to do and to feel? Hazy images of her deepest desires were begging to be acknowledged at last and swirling within her imagination so fast it made her feel faint with shock and dizziness. She once again looked away.

"Michaela… look at me," he besought. When she complied after a few seconds, he said, as calmly and convincingly as he could manage, "D'ya remember what I told ya? Don't listen to your head… It'll only tell ya that you don't know how… You and me, we ain't about knowin' what t' do. We're about lovin'… feelin'… discoverin'… You take all the time ya need…"

Uncertainty and shyness remained etched across her features, and he could feel nervous waves coming from her, as if she was ready to bolt like a skittish animal. But he kept quiet, and his only moves were his soft caresses upon her waist and hips, in a way that let her know that this was exactly where he wanted her right now, while allowing her the latitude to pull away in case it became too much for her.

Michaela pondered her options. Sully had told her time and again that she had full freedom to say 'no' at any time and that she didn't have to submit to anything she didn't feel ready for. This liberty had actually put her at ease most of the time, and had even encouraged her to be bolder that she had ever imagined herself to be in the bedroom. Yet, the idea of being _in charge_ was so alien to her that it took a while for her to fully grasp it… She had never heard of such thing as a man submitting to his lover. Was it something Sully had heard about, or maybe seen while he was living among the Cheyenne? Was it common practice between Indian couples? Had Sully experienced it himself…? Her mind suddenly reared in protest as the image of him inside a tipi with a young, beautiful Cheyenne Woman hovering above him, plying him with kisses, came to her… _Stop! Stop imagining things like that, for Heaven's sake_ , she chastised herself… She took a steadying, calming breath, and refocused on what her husband was expecting from her. And it all became clear in a flash: he was _expecting_ her to make love to him, thus, he was giving her another indication on _how to please him_.

She could begin with worshiping his body the way he did hers – if she was honest with herself, she wanted to do that for herself as well. In her mind, she replayed the many ways he would touch her, how he would seek and stimulate her most sensitive spots when making love. It seemed the most logical thing to do to mirror his actions, so she began with placing kisses to his neck, nuzzling, nipping and suckling his smooth, taught, salty skin, all the while trailing her fingers all over his chest and stomach. He reacted with a muffled groan and the intensifying of the tension in his body, the muscles clenching at the passage of her hands over them. Meanwhile, just like it had happened when she had given him the massage a few days before, she derived pleasurable sensations from the caresses as well, sharp tingles travelling from all the nerve endings that were in contact with him down to that place deep within which pulsated in longing. She was barely hanging onto her consciousness – and her initial goal – as the urge to lose herself in his arms, to feel their bodies merging into one, swept over her. But she had to stay in control. She couldn't afford to lose it now, or she would lose her nerve as well.

Sully could barely believe that not only didn't she shy away, but she was so intent on overcoming her own reserve to please him that she was faithfully emulating his previous attentions to her – and quite masterfully at that! The situation was so arousing in itself that he would have been unable to tell what excited him the most, her soft touches onto places that were surprisingly sensitive, or having her taking the lead. Either way, he was plunged into a pool of erotic sensations and thoughts so powerful that it soon became an every-second battle not to take over, flip her onto her back, and bury himself inside her warm, soft body… There was no word that he knew of that could presently adequate the depth of the passion he felt for her.

Michaela almost wished she had honey at hand so she could have given him the same treatment he had done her in the morning… She decided she would just have to imagine it was the case and, determinedly, she traced swirling paths onto his skin first with her fingertips, then following the same pattern with kisses, enjoying immensely the sounds he couldn't hold back and the blissful expression all across his features as she cast a quick glance up at his face. Encouraged, she moved her touches lower to his stomach. His member was standing on attention, as if waiting for _her_ attentions. She bit her lip a moment, considering what she would do next… She wanted… she didn't quite dare… _not yet_ … She pressed a lingering kiss just below his navel, her breasts brushing his upper thighs. He shuddered beneath her quite violently, the force of his reaction making her fear she had done something wrong for a second, but then she realized he was reacting as she did when he was attending to particularly sensitive spots on her. She couldn't stop the proud grin that tugged the corner of her lips upward and, determinedly, without pausing to plan her next actions, she slid a little further down, so that she was facing her target. Wrapping one hand gently around his manhood, she leant down and pressed a tentative, first kiss to it.

Sully nearly jumped out of the bed from the sensation of her sensuous mouth on his most private part. _She had dared do that to him!_ The thought alone was almost too much to bear and he came within an inch of losing all control right then and there. His hand flew out blindly to search for something to grasp and squeeze tight as he struggled to keep enough wits about him long enough to allow her to do as she pleased. He didn't want the experience to come to a premature end, as much for her as for himself, yet when she darted out her tongue, tasting him right on the most exquisitely pleasurable spot of all with such an ingenuous timidity, he let out a forceful groan, followed by an even louder one as her lips closed around the tip for a second and then glided around that over-sensitized bit of flesh.

Michaela had closed her eyes, preferring to rely solely on her senses of touch and hearing to perceive how he reacted to her ministrations. She felt terribly wicked and yet overwhelmingly empowered to be doing such a thing to her husband. It wasn't difficult, though, to understand why such an experience could easily become unpleasant, and even traumatic, to a woman being forced into this act. In the present case, Michaela was very willingly trying to give her lover the same kind of gratification he had given her earlier that day, to return his attentions with as much love as he had shown her. To her, it wasn't unpleasant in the least, as his flesh there was so soft, warm and responsive against her lips. The taste was merely saltier than the rest of his body, while the strong virile musk, now that she was breathing it in so close, reminded her of the heated scent of the huge chestnut trees back east, in the early summers, that saturated the air for a few days. Though she couldn't figure out why, it made her dizzy with even more excitement and, along with feeling him react so strongly to her ministrations, it all spurred her on and made her intensify her caresses.

Sully's blood pressure was climbing dangerously higher by the second, his heart was pounding so hard in his chest, that it was a wonder he hadn't exploded yet. And his need for release was pushing hard on his hips in the instinctual thrust forward. He couldn't help himself – it was coming so fast on him he knew he wouldn't even have enough time to shift so that he could at least slip himself inside her and they reach paradise together. It was too late. He just couldn't hold out any longer. He could only warn her…

Michaela soon felt her husband's body tense impossibly further, and she recognized the telltale, irrepressible upward movements of his pelvis as the signs that they were getting near to the conclusion. Then, she heard him call her name urgently.

"'Chaela!" he keened.

Surprised and a little worried, she pulled back slightly, and looked up into his face just in time to see his features contorting in intense pleasure as he let out a vibrant howl. And just then, she witnessed with round eyes the sudden appearance of a thick, milky substance splattering across his belly, her mind trying to add up what she knew as a doctor with what she was experiencing as a wife. The wife won out easily, and she once again looked up at him, smiling somewhat sheepishly, feeling a tad guilty for causing a mess. At a loss for words, she gave his thigh the gentlest pat before slipping off the bed and going to the bathroom to fetch a washcloth and a towel.

Sully could barely move a muscle from the powerful climax he had just had. His mind felt just as sluggish and if not for the awed gratefulness that he truly wanted to express to his wife, he would have let himself drift off to sleep. He felt her leave the bed, but he had no strength left to call her back, let alone hold onto her. He was relieved when she returned soon after, although he flinched at the contact of the wet cloth onto his stomach. However, it did bring him back to his senses quicker, and he could at last grasp one of her hands to bring it to his lips.

"Are you… are you all right?" she asked shyly, though she truly meant _was I all right, did I please you like this?_ But the appropriate words kept eluding her… _It was so frustrating!_

Sully let out a low chuckle. "Oh God, yeah! That was… Michaela, what you just did…" He grappled for the right way of conveying how he really felt, but any of the words that came to mind were either too feeble or too crude. He could only burn another fervent kiss to her palm, and reach up to cup her face and pull her to him, taking her breath away as he kissed her hungrily. Still astir from what had been a sensual experience for her as well, Michaela melted instantly into his embrace.

The cloth and towel forgotten, she reclined alongside him and actively deepened the kiss further, one hand firmly clamped at the back of his neck under his hair, while the other went roaming again over his muscled chest, her fingers combing through the soft tuft of hair. She understood this kiss was his way of thanking her, that he was possibly just as bereft of words as she had been and still was. Her remaining doubts and feelings of clumsiness were now fading into meaninglessness. It certainly had been worth the inner struggle. And nothing terrible had happened. Quite the contrary – Sully seemed happy and satisfied, he was being as tender and loving as he always was, and she felt a definite surge of pride from overcoming her initial misgivings and offering her beloved husband such a pleasurable treat.

After some time, his weariness dissipating, Sully became aroused again from his wife's caresses and even more by that newfound confidence he perceived in her. This was what he had been wishing for ever since they had become a couple, for her to feel secure and assured enough in their relationship to stop worrying about whatever the world – and herself – might think of her, or what was supposed to be proper and what wasn't when it came to their love life. He had a fair idea that even just a few days before all that happened between them in the past thirty-six hours would have never crossed her mind. In all honesty, he hadn't expected their physical and emotional relationship to evolve so quickly and positively. He had never anticipated that each day spent with her would see him fall in love with her all over again. Each time he thought he couldn't possibly love her more, she would do or say something that would leave him completely awed.

Feeling the reawakening of her lover's desire, Michaela broke off the kiss to catch her breath and look into Sully's eyes in wonder, amazed and flattered to feel so wanted by him. If she hadn't known Sully so well, or hadn't had such complete trust in him, she would have probably been worried, even upset to know that she was the object of a man's frequent lustful thoughts.

 _Trust_. It truly was the key or, as the Reverend had put it, the cornerstone of a marriage. It had certainly made the foundations of their relationship sturdy. It was because she knew she could trust him with anything and everything that she could give herself to him so completely, that she could bare her soul as well as her body to him. Now, she was sure that she could never have reached this point had she married any of her former suitors. And Sully's trust in her was so empowering, too…

"Hey, remember… you don't got—" he started to say, but she silenced him with a kiss that let him know without a shadow of a doubt how much she wanted him as well at that moment. They grinned triumphantly against each other's lips before resuming their deep kissing and sensual fondling. Soon enough, Michaela made to roll onto her back, signaling she was ready for them to be joined together, but Sully held fast onto her, actually pulling her up so she was once again laying across him. Seeing the look of confusion flash in her eyes, Sully explained, "Told ya… you're the boss t'night." To make his point clearer, he slightly wiggled his hips under her, a playful smile on his lips.

Michaela chewed on her lower lip, images of what Sully clearly wished her to do running through her mind. She reasoned it might have been what he had hoped for all evening… Glancing once more at his face, seeing his eyes so dark with hunger, and feeling the impatient trembling of his hands on her backside… She wouldn't have been able to refuse him, even if she had wanted to – which of course she _did not_ … No, her hesitation merely stemmed from inexperience… Her memory then flew back to that moment, two nights ago, when he had showed her that she could actually be the one to guide him inside her. She shifted positions so that she was once again straddling him, and leant forward to kiss him hard on the mouth, the aggressiveness of her move giving her the momentum she needed to reach down and give his member a few gentle strokes before she united with him. She breathed out a long sigh into his neck as she reveled in the way he was filling her up. She couldn't imagine ever getting tired of that incredible sensation, it was so wonderful, so pleasurable in itself that most of the time that was all she needed to feel satisfied.

Once again, Michaela's willingness to try new ways of expressing their mutual love left him awestruck. _Lovin'… feelin'… discoverin'…_ Those were his own words, and they both were doing a lot of that tonight, As she set a gentle rocking motion, tentatively at first, then more decided once she realized how good it felt to both of them, he recalled again his time among the Cheyenne, and could almost picture a few braves calling out playfully to him and asking the customary question about whether his bride showed enthusiasm… He grinned to himself, letting Michaela's unique enthusiasm carry him off into a realm of sheer bliss very few men, he was sure, had the chance to know.

After a little while, Michaela braced herself up to get better control of her movements, and Sully took the opportunity to reach one hand up to caress her breasts, while the other remained on her bottom, fondling her the way she seemed to love best. Her head fell back, she shuddered and let out a long hissing moan as she was overcome by a wave of pleasure. It prompted her to move a little faster as she felt a stronger pressure deep inside, her whole body shaking with the need to let the dam burst. And then, she made an interesting, and highly pleasurable discovery. She realized she could contract her pelvic muscles at will and that it seemed to increase her husband's gratification as much as it did hers. When she felt Sully succumbing once again to the instinctive need to thrust beneath her, she sought his hands and his eyes with hers, which locked lovingly just as they reached the powerful pinnacle of their union.

Exhausted and totally sated, she collapsed onto him, not caring they were both sweaty. As a natural drowsiness was clouding her consciousness, her only thought was that she wanted to remain linked with him just like this, cuddled up to his chest, forever.

Sully, too, couldn't fight his fatigue much longer. He enfolded Michaela limply into his arms, and pressed a sleepy kiss to her forehead.

"You all right, hmm?" he drawled.

Michaela let out a tiny snort of laughter and she smiled broadly, though her eyes remained closed.

"Uh-huh… What about you?"

"Er…for a while, I thought you were gonna kill me… but now, I reckon I'm gonna live, Doc'," he teased.

Michaela giggled.

"Oh, you poor thing," she crooned in mock sympathy, though her light caresses on his shoulder belied the irony in her words. "I'll have you know that you are directly responsible for what you went through. Maybe next time you'll think twice before making me the boss…"

"No, ma'am. Told ya you weren't too bossy for me – still holds."

They both laughed as the fleeting memory of their short exchange before trapeze practice danced between them. When they quieted and both yawned wide a couple of times, it became clear a good night sleep was overdue.

Michaela craned her neck so she could look at him and give him a soft goodnight kiss, before sinking once more into his embrace, her cheek pillowed on his breast. Both fell asleep in an instant, bottoming out completely after the intense playtime they had had all day and late into the night.


	23. Expectations

_Tuesday May, 31_ _st_ _, 1870_

Michaela stirred, though she kept her eyes closed. She felt far too comfortable to want to wake up fully yet and begin her day. But the reality of her immediate surroundings was chasing her toward consciousness, as more and more details presented themselves to her. Sully's virile warmth and scent were too much of an incentive for her to try and fall back asleep. She smiled ruefully in her half sleepiness as the whirlwind of her feelings once again struck her. On one hand, she still marveled at the sweet wonder of sharing a bed with a man, and not just _any_ man, but her _husband,_ and more importantly her _soul mate_. On the other hand… She couldn't help but blush, though she softly giggled, as in a spurt of fancy she pictured the two of them, remaining physically joined together for hours, days, years… _Not exactly the most practical situation!_

She eventually opened her eyes. Unwilling to move away from her still slumbering husband, she let her thoughts wander to what happened the day before. Chewing on her lower lip thoughtfully she recalled every single detail of the eventful day and night, and though a trace of embarrassment wedged its way in, the memories didn't fail to arouse her. She fought the urge to rub herself up against him, to wake him and have him guess without words where she needed his kisses and caresses the most… to die and then resurrect in his arms… again… and again… However, those overpowering and seemingly never-ending onslaughts of desire were beginning to seriously worry her. How could she need him so much, so often, so uncontrollably? Not to mention the way she would fantasize about them together now, even consciously. She could hardly believe how far her thoughts could take her, especially since the incredible experiences they had shared the previous day…

One of his hands was on her thigh that was draped across his while the other hand was resting at the small of her back. He would only have to let it drop a few inches lower… She clamped her lips shut to stop herself from uttering the needy moan that was rising in her throat. She could so clearly picture herself resuming her position from last night, then leaning over to kiss him awake sensuously, that her body shook with the instinctive movement she made and repressed but a second too late.

Sully was gently jostled awake by the sudden motion of Michaela's body pressed close to him. However, as she stilled immediately after this, he felt like drifting back to the contended sleep he had enjoyed all night. He had experienced the most extravagant dream in which his wife had revealed a whole new side of herself to him. The dream had been so detailed and so vivid that he wanted it to go on and on. Yet, he found he couldn't go back to the sweet lethargy, as Michaela's tangible presence was just as alluring. His senses were slowly registering the details, one after the other – the way she was laying so intimately alongside him, her left arm and leg strewn across his body, strongly reminiscent of the positioning they had assumed in his dream; her perfect skin, soft, so soft, velvety at places, smooth and delicate as silk at others; her scent… her taste… Heady, warm, sweet and tempting like… _Honey_ … Right then he realized he hadn't dreamed all those wild experiments with first the honey, and then all the exploratory kisses and touches, in the most intimate ways imaginable. It had felt too real, it could _not_ have been a dream – _could it?_

His body reacted as he relived with acute clarity what has happened the evening before, and he came fully awake, opening his eyes and meeting his wife's.

"Mornin'," he let out in a rasp, while his hands went roaming over her already warm skin.

Michaela gasped as he touched her exactly the way she had been longing for, and could barely articulate "Good morning," herself.

Sully wanted nothing more than to indulge into some _lovin' in the mornin'_ , and he had the distinct feeling Michaela wouldn't mind one bit to share all that love energy with him, but a fleeting warning lit up in his consciousness, prompting him to ask:

"You all right? You ain't gettin' sore, are ya?"

She paused in her own caresses, a bit taken aback. _Sore? What could he be meaning…?_ And then it dawned on her, and she blushed out of habit. She shook her head, wanting to ask him the same thing, but unsure whether such question could be asked to a man. So she merely said: "What about you? Are you all right?"

Sully grinned broadly, "Never better!" then he claimed her lips hungrily, kissing her long and deep. Soon, he rolled her sideways and under him, joining them in one swift motion. Her moan of delight rang to his ears like the calling song of a siren, and her enthusiastic abandon combined with her newfound aplomb spurred him into redoubling his efforts to give her as much pleasure as he could. Yet, the more at ease with their intimacy Michaela was growing, the more pleasurable their relations were, but also the more difficult it became for him to channelize all his focus and willpower and not to let himself go prematurely.

Indeed, when her voice echoed louder in the otherwise quiet room and her body was quaking more and more as he brought her nearer to her release, it almost hurt him to fight the urge to thrust more rapidly and fiercely. Michaela seemed to sense this even through the white-hot haze of imminent climax, so she tightened reflexively her hold onto Sully's hips and propelled herself hard against him, signaling her awareness of his need, and that he no longer had to restrain himself on her account.

Sully would never forget the way her face lit up, her whole countenance utterly ecstatic, as he relinquished any hold he had left onto his emotions and sensations, driven by a renewed surge of virile power. He felt her nails digging forcefully into his flesh in answer to his mighty movements, and that only goaded him further.

Neither could stifle their cries of fulfilment when pleasure erupted for both of them and, after a few moments to recover and catch their breath, they had to chuckle together at how ferociously passionate their union had been. There was that daring gleam in his wife's eyes that Sully had come to particularly enjoy. Such spark stirred him as much as it reassured him that she found their most heated intimate moments just as gratifying as he did.

Just as he leant in closer to give her neck a playful smooch, a knock at their door cut Michaela's giggles short and stopped Sully dead in his tracks. Another knock resounded, more firmly, prompting Michaela to redden furiously and hiss, "They know we're in here … They must have heard us."

"Maybe so, but they'll haveta come back later," grumbled Sully. "We ain't in no state to answer 'em…"

A third knock was heard then, leaving Sully with no choice but to acknowledge it. He rolled sideways so that he could see the door, but made a point of remaining snuggled close to Michaela, thus showing he had no intention to have them leave the bed anytime soon.

"What is it?" he boomed in a reminiscent way of that other time, a week before, when their morning loving had been interrupted by another inopportune visitor. The young male voice that answered on the other side of the door was coincidently the same, cracking all the more with embarrassment.

"Urgent telegram for Mrs. Sully, Sir."

At the word urgent, Michaela tensed and cast a pleading look to her husband. Both thought something serious might have happened to the children, and Michaela also feared it could mean her sister's health had taken a turn for the worse.

Not caring in the least about how undignified it would sound, Sully ordered sternly, "Slip it under the door, then."

"Please…" Michaela squeaked out for good measure. Though she understood Sully's annoyance, and forgave readily his momentary rudeness, she still felt compelled to make up for it. She disengaged herself from his arms, and went to pick up the slip of paper as it appeared from under the door.

"Thank you," she said to the unseen bellboy, making a mental note to have Sully find him later and tip the young man. She couldn't picture herself facing the employee, for she was sure she would embarrass herself and the man in the process, knowing he had very possibly heard them at the most intense moment of their lovemaking. The now dreaded sinful feeling was returning, as she had been caught red-handed taking part in some unlawful activity. She swallowed the lump of guilt and anxiety that suddenly swelled in her throat and opened the telegram.

Sully rose as well, and came to her side, getting concerned as he saw his wife's brow deeply furrowed.

"What happened? One of the kids took sick or got hurt?"

Michaela shook her head.

"No," she murmured, her tone wavering between concern and annoyance. "It's just my mother considering it _urgent_ to warn me that she and my sisters will be in Denver tonight…"

"Huh? How come?" he inquired as he gently guided her back to their bed, noting with an inward smirk that Michaela seemed totally oblivious that they were both ambling around stark naked. _Good…_

"She doesn't say… She only informs me that they are heading back home earlier than planned."

"Why d'ya think they changed their mind 'bout stayin' till we got back?" Sully wondered, utterly puzzled at Michaela's mother's apparent whim. "They gettin' bored, maybe?"

"No, I don't think they would curtail their stay just because they have run out of things to do… I can't help but think it might have to do with Marjorie," she mused. "I guess we'll find out soon enough…" She glanced up at him, trying to gauge his mood. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Mind? Mind 'bout what?"

"Well… Mother requests that we have supper with her and my sisters tonight… I suppose they will board the train for St. Louis later in the evening, or very early tomorrow."

She was looking at him with that ingenuous look in her eyes she always assumed when she was asking him a favor. He remembered fondly how irresistible she had always been in those occurrences. Like, when in Boston, she had invited him along to the medical conferences, or once back home, she had requested he come with her to the meeting at the church to try and find a way to go through the drought and still celebrate Thanksgiving. Of course he couldn't refuse her anything now, no more than he could back then!

"Sure. We'd better make the most of 'em being here. Might be a while before you see 'em again," he said gently, letting her know that he was fine with the unexpected turn of events, though he wasn't too impressed with the way Elizabeth had communicated her change of plans to them. He bent to softly kiss her shoulder. "At least, we can rest easy till they get here. If there was a real emergency, they would've asked ya to come home right away."

"Mmh," she acquiesced absently, her gaze drawn back to the telegram in her hand as if she was trying to decipher some hidden message. Sully then noticed that the wire was addressed to Mrs. Michaela Sully. Now that he thought of it, he had heard the staff of the hotel address her as Mrs. Sully, never as Dr. Quinn, and she hadn't corrected them. Had she changed her mind? He suddenly felt curious, and before he could think of all the reasons he had not to re-open that particular can of worms, he prodded:

"Hey, don't it bother ya to be called Mrs. Sully, now?"

Michaela jumped slightly, cutting sheepish eyes at him.

"No, not at all…" she chewed on her lower lip for a few seconds, while Sully had the wisdom to keep his counsel and granted her the freedom of elaborating or not. He simply caressed her shoulder and arm lovingly.

"I'm so sorry, Sully. I'm sorry I made such a fuss about not taking your name," she eventually said.

"I reckon we both were pretty on edge 'fore the weddin'…"

"You're right. But it wasn't just about clinging to my maiden name for an identity issue…"

"You wanted to carry on your pa's name," he guessed.

Michaela felt a rush of love and gratitude toward her husband for being so perceptive and understanding, and she leaned forward to kiss him soundly. After a long moment, she pulled back and breathed, gazing earnestly into his eyes.

"Since the moment we said our vows, you've made me feel so loved, so cherished that now, taking your name feels… natural, even logical…" She then added with another sheepish grin, "I must admit I actually enjoy being called Mrs. Sully…"

"You do, huh?" he spoke with such a pleased twinkle in his eyes that her heart melted.

"Mmmh-hmm… I still feel I must keep my maiden name as my professional name… since it is on my medical license, my shingle, the sign the town made for me…. but don't worry, that doesn't mean I expect you to change your mind about wearing a ring," she bantered to diffuse any possible resentment he might still held. "Nor do I want you to be called Byron Quinn," she added as if to close the argument once and for all.

They kissed again, amidst chortles from Michaela's humorous comment. Then, tenderly, Sully took the slip of paper from her, put it on the nightstand and embraced her fully once more, pulling her down with him across the crumpled bedspread. He cuddled her close and, for quite a while, they shared soft kisses and caresses, rubbed noses affectionately and whispered words of love, both content to simply lie together.

However, another untimely noise disrupted their sweet moment. Sully's stomach rumbled loudly from lack of sustenance, soon followed by Michaela's. The couple burst into laughter.

"Room service?" Sully proposed.

"Again? That's not reasonable, Sully… What will they think of us?" Michaela half-laughed, half-chided. The truth was she didn't want to leave the cocoon of Sully's arms, she didn't want to leave their haven either… She wasn't even looking forward to having supper with her mother and sisters that evening. With a guilty, shocked start, she realized the idea of returning home and beginning her new life, balancing her career and motherhood, with being a _wife_ , filled her more with anxiety than with happy anticipation. She did miss her children —but not nearly as much as she felt she ought to…

"You're frettin' again," Sully remarked as he ran a finger across her creased brow and down her nose, giving it a playful tiny tap.

She took a deep, steadying breath, before propping herself on her elbow to once more gaze at him earnestly, though she flashed him a small lopsided grin when she said, "You know me too well."

He smiled back, then supplied, "Can't read your mind, though. Whatcha thinkin'?"

She shrugged, as if trying to get rid of the nagging thought that they were nearing the end of their honeymoon. Only three days left on the magical odyssey that was getting to know each other in entirely new ways. Only three short days before the intimacy they were presently sharing with very little disruption, would become a thing of the past… their honeymoon soon would be nothing more than one of her most treasured memories… Time was running way too fast for her taste. It was bad enough when it came to watching the Cooper children grow up and mature before her eyes, but when she now looked back to their wedding day, then remembered all that had happened since the moment they had boarded their caboose-turned-nuptial chambers, the days had flown by like a breath of wind, or so it seemed.

"I suppose that my mother and sisters' departure is reminding me that our honeymoon will soon be over," she explained. The hint of sadness in her tone wasn't lost on Sully, who scooted closer to her and rubbed her arm consolingly. He knew all too well what she was talking about as he shared those feelings. They were having an even grander time than he had envisioned. Not only were they enjoying their new physical intimacy beyond all his expectations, hopes and dreams, but they had also reached unexpected levels of understanding each other. And he found that he now loved Michaela in ways he never thought a man could love a woman…

"Even the best things in life gotta come to an end sooner or later," he provided wisely, "but that don't haveta mean we're gonna stop bein' happy…"

"No, of course not," she agreed.

"Tell you what, let's come back here in a few years, kinda like a second honeymoon."

"Second honeymoon?" she perked up, already in love with the idea.

"Yep. Could be for our anniversary…"

He was pleased to see the forlorn expression that had marred her beautiful features fade away, to be replaced by one of hope and joy at the prospect. And what he had whimsically blurted out in an attempt to lift her spirits was rapidly growing on him as well. Not only could he picture the two of them still happily married and passionately in love years in the future, but he also figured he might be able to surprise her once in a while by whisking her off for an overnight trip to one of his old shelters in the woods.

"'Fore we get to that part… how 'bout we enjoy the rest of our _first_ honeymoon, huh?" he then said with a mischievous smirk, gathering his wife in his arms once more. They resumed their kisses between bubbles of laughter. Only hunger and the other necessities of life stalled them momentarily.

Twenty minutes later, they were helping themselves to the various treats on the tray that had been brought in while Michaela was in the bathroom, and amorously feeding each other as well. Just as they were sharing a sticky, strawberry-flavored kiss, Sully suddenly pulled back, and cast a glance at the door, all his senses on alert.

"What's wrong?" inquired Michaela breathlessly.

Sully shook himself, realizing he had imagined the knock he was sure he had heard. Maybe it had occurred, but on another door… He let out a small embarrassed chuckle.

"Nothin'. I was sure I heard someone knockin'. Guess I'm scared we'll be interrupted again…"

Having guessed that her husband's intentions were to stay in all day for some _snugglin' and sparkin'_ , at least until it was time for them to get ready for supper with her family, Michaela felt her cheeks sting as she pictured someone walking in on them at a most inopportune moment, a situation that would be beyond mortifying. Yet, it remained a possibility they had to consider.

"I suppose interruptions are likely to happen again… especially at home," she warned hesitantly.

For a few seconds, Sully clearly imagined a scenario occurring on their first morning at home… he feeling quite amorous and things heating up quickly, until Brian unexpectedly opened their door – and they hadn't even heard him knock. Sully shook his head slightly to dislodge that embarrassing vision and then nodded in acknowledgment, "I guess we're gonna have to tell the kids about knockin' and waitin' till we open our door… Or I'm gonna carve us a sign to hang at our bedroom door that says we need privacy. I sure wish we had somethin' like this here![1]"

Michaela was then seized by apprehension. "Oh Sully… what if the children hear us?" she blanched at the prospect. It was embarrassing enough to suspect that maybe the hotel staff or the occupants in the nearby rooms could hear them when they were vocalizing their enjoyment of each other. But it was an entirely different matter to let impressionable youngsters be unwitting, innocent witnesses to their parents' carnal transports.

Sully feared that if Michaela became too worried about being seen or heard, she might relapse into a self-conscious, prudish behavior and would no longer allow herself to let go and feel the full gamut of the pleasures of marital life once they would be back home. He couldn't let that happen!

"Dontcha worry," he reassured her, artfully dropping his voice to a sultry huskiness. "I made sure our house is insulated real good, I figured out a way to pad the walls so the rooms stay cool in the summer, and keep the heat in the winters… It'll be plenty quiet too… Kids won't hear a thing…"

"Are you sure?" she insisted, unconvinced.

"I'm sure… you know, we ain't that loud." He stared at her challengingly. "But if it makes ya feel better, we can either not make love at all when the kids are home…. Or we can be a little quieter, mmh?"

Michaela reddened again, but she nodded nonetheless. Somehow, Sully always seemed to know exactly what she needed to hear. Just as he knew instinctively when he had to remain serious – or when he could tease her. Presently, he resumed his seductive maneuvers with a slow, sensual kiss to which she couldn't help but respond, her concerns instantly being wiped off from her mind as she surrendered to her husband's caresses. The impassioned mood she had been in since she had awakened had not dissipated entirely yet, and it didn't take much on Sully's part to spark it off again.

The breakfast tray was quickly pushed aside. Sully made his wife recline onto her back and expertly sought her most sensitive areas, intent on showing her they could still find satisfaction while keeping their voices down.

Their loving, this time, seemed to reflect their awareness that soon, all too soon, their honeymoon would be over, as both wavered between trying to live those last few days as intensely as they could, and at the same time making the present moment last as long as possible. They tacitly agreed to draw out every touch and every kiss… they savored each gasp and shiver, found new ways to tease and satisfy, and smothered whimpers and grunts of pleasure with hard, deep kisses.

After a while, however, it became impossible for Sully to keep from reaching the conclusion of their encounter, even though he noticed that Michaela wasn't quite there herself. Dazed as he was, he still managed to guess what was going through his wife's mind. Muffled sounds of hotel patrons coming and going, chatting more or less loudly, were coming from the corridor, and he could see her eyes drifting every few seconds to the door.

Refusing to let the outside world spoil what they had together, he determinedly gathered the last threads of his energy and proceeded to recapture her full attention with his caresses. He withdrew and shifted to lay alongside her, slipping one arm under her nape to cradle her head. His other hand crept down to the juncture of her thighs, and with his fingers, he emulated the motions of love, while he murmured erotic comments and encouragements to her, something he had never done before. This new experiment proved to be terribly exciting for both of them and, along with the deft stimulation of her feminine core, eventually achieved the desired effects. Awed and moved, Sully reveled in the sight of his wife squeezing her eyes shut and the way she half rolled toward him to bury her face – and her moans – into his neck as she shook with long tremors of pleasure. Her hand flew to his shoulder and clutched it forcefully, giving Sully another indication of how good his ministrations felt to her. To witness in full consciousness the effect he had on his wife, without his own sensations to distract him, was even more rewarding that he had anticipated.

He held her tightly to his chest as she calmed down and regained her bearings. Slowly, tiredly, she craned her neck to look up into his eyes.

"Sully," she called hoarsely. Still quite a bit intoxicated from what she had just experienced, she felt little inhibition to utter sultrily, "What you do to me…"

Sully grinned in delighted surprised at her unguarded admission and answered, "I was just thinkin' the same thing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] The door hanger sign "Do not disturb" didn't exist yet in 1870. It is believed it appeared in the early 20th century.


	24. Family Business

When the elaborate timepiece on the mantle chimed three o'clock in soft tinkles, Michaela was still cozily nestled into Sully's arms, lulled to a languid half-doze by the steady rise and fall of his chest under her cheek, the strong, slow thumping of his heartbeat against her ear and the gentle rhythmic strokes of his hand onto her back. She grimaced and heaved a loud sigh of regret, knowing the time had come to tear herself from her lover's side and get ready for her mother and sisters' arrival on the five o'clock train.

"That bad, huh?" Sully teased, his tone reflecting his own deeply relaxed state.

"I just wish we had been given further notice… that Mother would have waited another day or two," Michaela stated with barely concealed annoyance. "If it is because Marjorie feels unwell again, then it would have been better for her to rest a few more days, rather than being subjected to such a long trip. Upon our return, I would have made sure she received the proper treatment."

"What does she have? Is it serious?"

Michaela hesitated. But looking into Sully's eyes, she was reminded how non-judgmental and compassionate he was, and she knew that whatever she would tell him, he would never breathe a word of it to a soul. "It is… very uncomfortable," she began. "Do you remember her husband Everett?"

"Can't say I exchanged more 'n two words with the man, but yeah, I remember him… You sayin' he's the one who made her sick?"

Michaela nodded, sighing again.

"He abandoned her around the same time… I was abducted."

"He had another woman?" Sully guessed.

"Yes. One the good society of Boston would call a demimondaine… Such a woman who… engages in multiple relationships with wealthy men and spreads venereal diseases as much as any saloon girl… Who knows what Marjorie could have contracted from Everett because of him consorting with this woman, while still forcing himself on my sister for wifely duty's sake…"

Sully said nothing at first, though he fumed inside at the sheer cruelty of it. He couldn't suppress a shudder at the thought that this could have easily happened to his wife if she had been married to one of those Boston _gentlemen_ … All of the conflicted feelings oscillating between reserve, guarded tenderness, and strained passion that Michaela had expressed ever since they had met made all the more sense to him, in the light of what had happened to Marjorie. Never had he felt more thankful that he was the only man Michaela had ever known in the biblical sense. He hugged her possessively and pressed a long kiss to her forehead, before looking back into her eyes, "You know I'd never do that, do ya?"

"Of course, Sully," she stated firmly. Then, unexpectedly, her lips curled up in the crooked grin, and Sully wondered at the impish gleam he saw in her eyes.

Seeing his expression of surprise, Michaela elaborated, "When you were missing for the rehearsal dinner, Marjorie and Mother kept making assumptions that you had left me at the altar. Marjorie even declared outright that you weren't the most suitable choice for a husband."

Knowing his wife as he did, Sully chuckled as he pictured the scene, with Michaela getting fired up by such an attack on him. She didn't disappoint as she continued spinning her tale.

"I set her straight about that. I let her know in no uncertain terms how convinced I was you would never, ever leave me, least of all for a…" She reddened contritely, suddenly remembering her uncharacteristic use of a derogatory word, "Oh dear, I think I actually said 'for some trollop'!"

Sully let out a snort of laughter, enchanted by his wife's feistiness that sometimes got the best of her usual poise. Then he grew serious again.

"That sickness he gave her… that means she's been sufferin' in silence all this time until you treated her… how did ya find out? She told you?"

"No, as you can imagine, she couldn't even bring herself to seek her own physician's help. She certainly wasn't about to come to _me_ about this… she felt too humiliated."

Michaela clearly saw her husband's feelings of anger and disgust at Everett's irresponsible and cruel behavior, and genuine compassion for his sister-in-law's trials, displayed on his beloved face. She felt her heart swell, ever so grateful for having such a wonderful man as her husband, a man who didn't need to assert his power over a woman, or anybody else for that matter, by coercion or force, unless it was in self-defense, or to protect someone from harm.

"Unbelievable as it is," she went on, "it was Hank who pointed out to me the reason behind Marjorie's vindictiveness. One would have thought that given his… activities, Marjorie might have steered clear of him at every cost, or lashed out at him virulently as she is prone to do these days, but ironically, he seems to be the only one she had confided in…"

"Seems to me Hank was the first to let down his guard. Didn't ya notice how different he's been actin' when he's around her?"

"Now that you mention it, he's been quite the gentleman, more than Everett ever was…"

"You all right with that?"

"With what?"

"With Hank courtin' your sister."

"Courting? I don't think it is within Marjorie's present realm of possibilities to even consider courting. It's more likely Hank's attentiveness broke through her defenses… and that she felt he wasn't passing judgment on her, despite guessing correctly what was wrong with her."

Still holding Michaela tightly, Sully pondered for a few moments all that had just been said. Then he kissed his wife's lips comfortingly and eventually said, "Let's get ready and go see how she's doin' now, all right?"

Michaela didn't resist the urge to kiss him anew with great fervor, gathering the fortitude she would need later in Sully's sturdy embrace and enthusiastic response. Her instinct was warning her that a clash between her sister, their mother and herself was very likely to happen, though she couldn't tell where that sense of foreboding came from. She felt more reluctant than ever to break off their embrace, but knew she didn't have much of a choice, lest she left her mother and sisters waiting for Sully and her at the station… and that she would never hear the end of Elizabeth's griping!

Sometime later, while styling her hair in an elegant, yet stricter than usual up-do, Michaela looked at her reflection with a critical eye, the way she knew with absolute certainty her mother would scrutinize her from head to toe. She had selected a dress with a demure neckline, in an unconscious attempt to make up for her lack of modesty of late when performing her conjugal duties. Her rosy complexion and shining eyes were so obviously giving away how fulfilled she was in every aspect of her relationship with her husband that she almost dreaded spending time with her family. Would Elizabeth hold her tongue and act as if she didn't notice? Would she embarrass both her daughter and new son-in-law by making indiscreet inquiries or comments on whether or not Michaela was being a dutiful wife to her husband? _Well… probably not_ , Michaela reasoned, trying to pacify her nerves by reminding herself that her mother would never dare speak of anything of an intimate nature in public.

She feared also that her radiant appearance might be another slap to Marjorie's face, her present felicity in direct contrast with her sister's marital misfortunes. Although Marjorie had managed to put on a brave face for the wedding, Michaela was certain her sister still carried a lot of resentment and despondency, and the last thing she wanted was to rub salt into Marjorie's wounds.

As they were about to exit their suite, Michaela turned to her husband, admiring his allure in his best blue gray suit and a new navy blue silk cravat. He was clean-shaven, the pleasant scent of his smooth skin almost enough to distract her, and he had combed his hair neatly. She rose on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek in appreciation, and squeezed lightly his shoulder. "Thank you for dressing up," she said softly, before asking in a more anxious tone, "How do I look?"

Sully had also noticed Michaela's efforts to appear more conventional and decorous than what she usually cared for, but to his eyes, it neither dulled her beauty nor the healthy and happy glow about her one bit. He could easily guess her present attire was an attempt not to flaunt how content she was to her mother and sisters' faces. He had half a mind to remind his wife that no matter how she dressed or spoke, Mrs. Quinn was sure to find something to criticize, or that it wouldn't placate Marjorie's jealousy, but thought better of it. He only brought her hand to his lips, and answered with a reassuring smile, "You look perfect, don't worry. It's gonna be all right." With that, he draped her evening cape around her shoulders, and gave her one last kiss, knowing they'd better avoid any public displays of affection until they were back in their room later that night.

She flashed him back a soft grateful smile, then took his proffered arm to head out for what was sure to be an awkward evening.

* * *

Michaela was fidgeting nervously with her reticule as she and Sully waited on the platform for the train to arrive. For once, he didn't find her fretting exaggerated. He, too, was decidedly tense, though he did his best to hide it from his wife. Like her, he still wondered what on earth could be the Quinn ladies' reasons to rush back home without waiting at least until they were back in Colorado Springs. He knew Rebecca wasn't responsible and that it was most likely one of Mrs. Quinn's whims or, as Michaela feared, it had something to do with Marjorie.

Just then the locomotive, spouting huge billows of smoke, pulled into the Denver station. Michaela stepped closer to the end of the passenger car, trying to catch sight of her mother and sisters through the windows. Her anxiety level had been steadily mounting ever since the moment she and Sully had left their cocoon of love. Though she wasn't close to breaking point yet, she could already feel the tenseness in her shoulders and neck, which Sully had managed to massage and caress away, returning with a vengeance.

Elizabeth was the first to emerge from the back of the passenger caboose, closely followed by Rebecca. Both looked weary and deeply preoccupied. When Marjorie failed to appear, and her mother and oldest sister didn't seem to be expecting her, Michaela feared that something had indeed happened. Something serious.

"Mother! Rebecca!" she called out, waving at them, while Sully hurried closer to assist them down the steep metallic steps. Rebecca warmly hugged her newlywed sister and brother-in-law, while Elizabeth did as well, a little more sedately.

With nothing but brief greetings as preamble, Michaela asked her mother and sister pointedly, "What happened to Marjorie? Is she sick…?" she bit her tongue against saying _again_ , unsure whether or not Rebecca and their mother knew anything about Marjorie's long-lasting bout with the shameful disease.

Elizabeth cast a look around them at the crowd milling on the platform, and cringed at the sight of the occupied benches in the waiting area.

"Is there a place nearby where we could talk privately?" she requested impatiently.

Michaela cast a puzzled glance at Rebecca, who answered with a vague shake of her head, then exchanged an even more bewildered look with Sully who, as clueless as she was, could only shrug.

"How 'bout we take you back to our hotel? They have sittin' rooms, and we could have dinner there too…" Sully proposed.

Rebecca chimed in, "Is it far from the station? I'm afraid we don't have much time, we're supposed to board the night train for St Louis at eight."

"Nah, it ain't— _isn't_ too far. We have plenty of time. I'll get us a streetcar."

"Thank you, Sully," Elizabeth said, softening and suitably impressed at Sully's genuine efforts to dress and talk properly. "Would you be so kind as to see that our things are carefully handled during their transfer, as well?"

"Sure," he acquiesced with a smile and a nod, lightly touching her arm in the more familiar manner that he had begun to use the day of the wedding – _since he had become family_. He then gave his wife's hand a furtive squeeze and set out on his tasks. Elizabeth let out a tiny sigh as she observed the brief, unspoken exchange between her daughter and new son-in-law, their eyes speaking volumes. If anything, they both looked even more in love than before they had set off for their honeymoon, if such a thing were possible. And one would have to be blind not to notice how positively glowing Michaela appeared, prompting Elizabeth to wonder fleetingly if her daughter was already with child.

As Sully had promised, it wasn't too long before the three ladies were settled around a steaming tea pot and a large assortment of finger sandwiches. The tearoom was bustling with hotel patrons at this hour, partaking of an elaborate high tea before attending a play or a concert. Therefore, the Quinn ladies had opted for the relative privacy of one of the hotel sitting rooms, and a generous tip from Elizabeth had ensured they would have plenty of food and privacy during their short visit.

Sully remained standing, however, unsure whether he would be welcome to hear about the Quinns' personal affairs.

"Well…" he began, "I'll leave you to talk. I'll be in the next room if you need anythin'…"

"What are you talking about, Sully?" Michaela protested. "Of course you are staying!" She held out her hand to him, and then turned to her mother, feeling the need to justify herself. "Anything you have to tell me, Mother, I will tell my husband anyway, so—"

Elizabeth raised a hand to forestall her daughter. "I wasn't about to ask him to leave, Michaela. Please, Sully, take a seat."

Sully didn't need to be told twice, but instead of sitting down on the fauteuil next to Michaela, he perched himself on the armrest right behind her, resting a hand on her shoulder in loving support.

There was an awkward silence for a moment, with Elizabeth not knowing where to begin, Rebecca debating whether she should spare her mother and speak up first, and Michaela wondering if she'd better start asking the questions instead of waiting demurely for explanations.

Eventually, Rebecca cleared her throat discreetly and began, "Michaela, Sully, we're so sorry to cause such disruption to your honeymoon like this…"

"It's all right—" the couple replied in unison. They both let out a tiny chuckle, Michaela swiveling briefly to glance up at Sully, their adoring bond evident and duly noted once more by their audience, before she continued, "What happened? Why isn't Marjorie here with you?"

"She's gone," Elizabeth blurted laconically.

"What do you mean, 'gone'?" Michaela asked, dread constricting her throat.

"She took the first train out of Colorado Springs this morning," provided Rebecca as she handed a small slip of paper to her sister. There were only a few words scribbled down, in Marjorie's careless, favored left-handed penmanship, _I'm going back to Boston, please tell Michaela I'm sorry I didn't wait for her to come back and say goodbye_. "I should have seen this coming, she's been acting more and more despondent the past few days," the older sister lamented.

"I don't understand… she seemed fine when we left." Michaela wondered.

"Yes. I suppose she must have put on her bravest face for your wedding." Rebecca said.

"Oh." Michaela looked down guiltily. Sully noticed.

"Hey, it ain't your fault," he whispered.

"I know, but…." She looked back up at her sister, "So her melancholia still hasn't abated…"

"I'm afraid not…

Michaela felt Sully tense behind her at the word _melancholia_ , and assuming that he might be thinking of his mother, she reached up to touch the hand that was still on her shoulder and laced her fingers through his. Had her sister and mother not been right in front of them, she would have hugged and kissed her husband — but that would have to wait until they returned to the seclusion of their suite. She saw her mother's gaze fly to their joined hands, and she half-expected a disapproving frown, or worse, even a scolding. Yet, to her surprise, Elizabeth kept her counsel and pursued the matter of Marjorie's flight.

"For a few days after your departure, Marjorie appeared to be fine, but as the week progressed, she began to participate less and less in whatever we were doing. On Sunday, she wouldn't even come to Church. At first, I thought she was only…" She hesitated, unwilling to insult her daughter and son-in-law's rustic lifestyle, but Michaela spared her the trouble.

"You can say it, Mother. Bored to tears being in the middle of nowhere. To be honest, I feared the same thing."

"Even the… man from the saloon," Elizabeth continued, unable though to repress a slight grimace of disgust, "tried his best to get her to smile, but that didn't work. Marjorie was spending more and more time locked up in her room. She barely ate anything Grace had cooked for her, even her favorites…"

"Yesterday, she didn't come out at all," Rebecca went on. "I heard her crying last night, but when I tried to get in to comfort her, she only shouted, rather angrily, to leave her alone… and when I tried again this morning to bring her breakfast, she was nowhere in sight. Her things were gone. I only found the note on the nightstand."

Elizabeth concluded: "I never thought that one day, I'd be glad for small town life where everyone knows everyone else's business, but we easily discovered that Marjorie had taken the first train this morning…"

"Why didn't you tell us to try to intercept her when she changed trains here?" Michaela exclaimed.

Elizabeth and Rebecca shared an embarrassed glance.

"At first… we wanted to do just that but…" Elizabeth explained, "…Then I thought you might not be at the hotel when our telegram arrived."

Michaela gulped, recalling a little too clearly where she and Sully had been, and what they had been doing when the telegram had indeed arrived. A furious blush came to burn her face, one both her mother and sister didn't fail to notice and interpret. Rebecca discreetly hid her grin behind her hand, while Elizabeth reddened as well, feeling terribly flustered at the thought of her daughter submitting to her conjugal duties in broad daylight. How indecent! In Boston, _proper_ couples would never linger in their room so late in the day, honeymoon or not!

To break the awkwardness that threatened to settle, Rebecca tried to refocus the conversation on the matter at hand, "Besides, perhaps it's better this way. Given her state of mind these past few days, I honestly think Marjorie fled partly because she didn't know how to face you when you would have come back to Colorado Springs."

Michaela nodded sorrowfully. "I wish I could have helped her more."

"You did all you could, Mike. We all noticed she was ill, but no one could do anything about it, except for you. Marjorie told me you treated her. At least, now that's something less she will have to contend with."

"Whatdya think she's gonna do now?" Sully eventually spoke up.

Rebecca shrugged and shook her head, while Elizabeth frowned and closed her eyes, both deeply concerned.

Michaela's brow furrowed as well. "That still doesn't explain why she left so abruptly. I know Marjorie is rather impulsive, but…"

"I agree with you, Michaela…" Elizabeth gripped. "Believe me, she will have some serious explaining to do."

Again, Rebecca cleared her throat lightly as to gain attention.

"What is it, Rebecca…? You said you should have seen this coming…"

"Well—" she began, and then hesitated.

"Well what?" Elizabeth pressed on anxiously.

"Last Wednesday, Mr. Bing brought Michaela's mail and medical supplies to the Clinic, along with an envelope addressed to Marjorie. I asked her who had written to her, thinking it might be Maureen or Claudette, but she didn't answer me, she just looked very upset about it… Maybe she left because of this."

"Who could it be? Everett? You don't think he would have the nerve to ask her to give him a second chance, do you?" Michaela wondered out loud.

"Who knows? It's possible, however unlikely."

This bit of news seemed to upset Elizabeth greatly, "Why didn't you tell me this right away, Rebecca? Why did you keep me in the dark like this? Why am I always the last one to learn when my daughters encounter trouble?"

The sisters shared a quick alarmed glance, before Rebecca answered, "I'm sorry, Mother, I don't know much more… Until we catch up with Marjorie and get to the bottom of this, we'll only waste our energy making wild guesses. I didn't want to worry you unnecessarily."

Elizabeth let out an exasperated sigh, while Sully tugged as discreetly as he could at his cravat, decidedly ill-at-ease in the tense atmosphere, yet aware Michaela needed him there with her. Their fingers were still firmly interlocked across her shoulder, and she had also dared put her other hand on his knee, rather than leaving it demurely on the armrest or in her lap as decorum would have dictated. He had felt more than once his mother-in-law's keen eyes on them, observing his silent, almost instinctive communication with his wife. He supposed Mrs. Quinn refrained on commenting on two counts, out of the more pressing matter of Marjorie's skedaddle and possibly feeling bad for interrupting their honeymoon, thus more inclined to be lenient regarding her youngest daughter's behavior.

Seven chimes struck from the sitting room's huge grandfather clock, signaling to the Quinn ladies it was time to head back to the train station. As before, Sully arranged for their transport, and the ride was a rather silent one, with Michaela only inquiring about the children, and Rebecca reassuring her that Robert E. and Grace had promised to help Matthew look after Colleen and Brian. Otherwise, the mood didn't call for small, insipid talk, while they all felt that there wasn't enough time left for anything meaningful. However, once on the platform, Elizabeth steered Michaela a few paces away.

"With your sister's reckless actions, I didn't even inquire about you, Michaela…"

"I'm perfectly fine, Mother. Sully and I both are."

Elizabeth smiled with uncharacteristic warmth, tinged with a trace of wistfulness.

"Yes, I can see that. It's obvious how content you two are… I— I'm sorry, Michaela."

"Sorry?"

"Sorry I misjudged you and questioned your choices for so long."

"Oh, Mother—"

"No please, let me finish. When I see what has happened to Marjorie, her own choices in life, and what society expects of her, of your other sisters, and us women in general I realize now that you are the one who's turned out the best. You are the happiest of all and… I'm certain that if your father was still with us, he would be so proud of you… and he would have approved of Sully."

Michaela choked back tears as she said in a strangled voice, "Do you truly think so, Mother?"

"Oh yes, dear. I do. I _know_ so."

"You don't know how much that means to me." Impulsively, Michaela hugged her mother who, past the first second of complete surprise, returned the hug gratefully, feeling her own tears mounting, so unused she was at such demonstration of affection from any of her daughters she wasn't sure how to respond.

"I love you, Mother."

Elizabeth pulled away, taken aback. It had been ages since anyone had blessed her with that phrase. This kind of sentiment wasn't something people expressed out loud in Boston. Even her late husband had only uttered it a few times, so long ago when he had courted her, and after she had given birth to their first child. And they were definitively not words she had ever heard from Michaela. But she knew, deep in her heart, that her youngest daughter genuinely meant them, and that was enough for her to completely lose her trademark strict self-possession. Warm tears spilled over as she cupped her daughter's cheek in her gloved hand and said just as emotionally, "I love you too, Michaela."

Mother and daughter hugged once more, fiercely, almost desperately, trying to make up for almost a lifetime of being at loggerheads.

Meanwhile, Rebecca and Sully were looking on happily at the obviously poignant conversation between Michaela and Elizabeth as well as having their own private exchange.

"Thank you, Sully, for taking such good care of my little sister, for loving her."

'You got that backwards, it's Michaela who takes the best care of me. And I gotta thank _you_ , Rebecca."

"Whatever for?"

"For always bein' fair, and for doin' your best to get your mother and sisters to give me a chance. I reckon it ain't been easy, but I saw ya stand up for Michaela more than once, and I'm really grateful for you. I couldna asked for a better sister-in-law."

Rebecca shot him an appreciative smile, and gave him a tight, cheerful hug.

"I want to hear about how you two are doing more often."

"Sure. I'm not much of a writer, but I'll encourage Michaela to write, and I might add a few words in," Sully promised.

"Good… oh, here they come."

Indeed, Michaela and Elizabeth were slowly walking toward them, arm in arm. Then after a long hug with her eldest sister, tears still stinging her eyes, Michaela stepped into Sully's loving embrace while a porter assisted the Quinn ladies into the sleeping car of the night train bound to St. Louis. Rebecca lowered the window so they could slip their hands through it and wave good-bye.

"Don't forget to wire us as soon as you arrive in Boston, and let me know how Marjorie is doing… and if I can be of assistance in any way," Michaela called out.

"We will. You enjoy the rest of your honeymoon now," Elizabeth hollered over the loud hissing and steam-sprouting engine as it was getting ready to leave the station. Both she and Rebecca waved all the more energetically as the train pulled out and gathered speed, their farewells drowned into the grit of metal, the repeated whistling and the chorus of the other families and friends saying good-bye to their loved ones.

"You all right, 'Chaela?" Sully asked once the train had rounded the bend and disappeared, and they were walking back to where the streetcars were lined up waiting for passengers.

"Yes," she answered, dabbing at her eyes with her lace handkerchief. "I'm worried about Marjorie of course, but this was a good visit. I now feel like my mother has definitely accepted us, that she is truly and sincerely giving us her blessing… she even said that—that my father would have approved of you."

"That's nice of her to say… D'ya agree with her? You think your pa would have let ya marry me?"

Michaela stopped in their tracks, and wrapped her arms around her husband's neck, totally ignoring the fact that they were standing in a public place.

"Oh yes, he would have seen how much you love and respect me, Sully. I'm certain he would have given us his blessing."

With those words, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, oblivious of the few catcalls and wolf-whistles of some passers-by.

Upon their return to their suite, they snuggled for a long moment, kissing, caressing and whispering to each other renewed vows of eternal love and devotion. Sully also took extra care to make sure every vestige of the day's tension was totally eradicated from his wife's emotions, with a long sensuous massage. Eventually they made love slowly and tenderly, once again reaffirming their complete physical and spiritual connection, until they fell asleep in one another's arms from blissful exhaustion.


	25. Feed The Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure you've read "Light my Fire" before you get into the second part of this looooooooong chapter ;-)

_Wednesday, June 1_ _st_ _, 1870_

The next morning, Sully was the first to emerge from slumber, at an earlier hour than he had the past few days. It was as if his internal clock knew that two days later they would have to be up before sunrise, so they could catch the first train out of Denver to go back home. There was also a slight uneasiness he couldn't shake. He must have had a dream sometime during the night, but the harder he tried to remember, the more elusive the impression it had left became. It wasn't the first time he had awakened to that odd unbalanced feeling… but now, he had Michaela by his side for good, both emotionally and physically. She was presently spooned into him, sleeping soundly. Her sole presence gave him a measure of comfort and safety no one, nor anything, ever could. He had never dared imagine, after he had lost so many loved ones, that it would only take the love of one woman – and not just any woman, but the most extraordinary and beautiful and caring person there was – to make up for all the grief, loneliness and confusion he had experienced. Never more grateful and in love, he planted the softest of kisses below her ear, and drew closer to her. She had been sleeping unclothed all night, much to his delight – her skin so soft and warm against his… her scent… By what wonder of Nature could it be that his love and need for her still felt so brand new, so overpowering, so unquenchable…? The memory of something she had told him a few months before came back to him at that moment.

_"Do you know what Sam said? She said that seeing us together was… like watching a fire burn."_

_"Is that good?"_

_"Well, ignore a fire and it burns out… but if you tend to it, take care of it, feed it… it keeps growing bigger, it burns brighter…"_

Their love indeed blazed as high and bright as a bonfire that would never die down since it took very little to rekindle it – a touch, a loving word… sometimes just a look. It totally encompassed the phrase _body and soul_ … Closing his eyes, he willed his soul to reach out to hers, and the touch of his lips and fingers to rouse her.

Michaela woke up to the feel of Sully nuzzling her neck ever so lightly. She kept her eyes shut as she wanted to bask fully in the sweetly arousing sensation spreading its warmth through her body. She allowed her awakening consciousness to focus only on his touch, the way his fingers were following the curve of her waist to her hip, her thigh, then back up, in a tantalizingly slow manner, to graze her ribs and the underside of her breast… his breath tickling her skin… his ankle hooked over hers… his broad chest and arms cocooning her upper body… She swallowed when she felt the evidence of his desire, her heart rate speeding up and her breath coming quicker, but still she didn't move as the wondrous physical sensations weren't all that she perceived. There was that non-verbal call, something that reverberated within her like a heavenly choir, something familiar. It was Sully's heart calling out to her, only its song wasn't desperate like when he had tried to locate her by _feeling_ her when she had been abducted by the Dog Soldiers. It was soft and engaging, subtly seductive, and she felt her own heart responding in kind, their inner voices mingling into a vibrant unison… She fully luxuriated in that moment of contemplation of how their bodies and souls communicated without words their endless need of one another – the slight oppression in her chest… her blood pounding thick and hot in her veins… the dizziness that only made her want to cling to him, and him only, for his arms were the safety net that would catch the trapeze performer should she fall from the thrilling heights his love could take her… and her own soft knot of desire in her lower belly, swelling, fluttering, and then turning liquid, pooling, flooding…. She opened her eyes a sliver, her breath no more than short, panting sighs, her body now aflame and begging for his, craving the ultimate fusion. Reaching behind, she found his thigh, pressed tightly to hers, and began a sensuous movement, somewhere between a caress and a massage, which she had discovered he particularly enjoyed. As he emitted a soft grunt of appreciation, she shifted slightly in his arms, and turned her head seeking his eyes.

Their mouths came together first, in one single kiss that deepened and lengthened with each breath they shared. Their fingers threaded together securely, never breaking. And when they became one physically, they were already so completely attuned to one another that they didn't really feel the need to chase after any kind of gratification, somehow they were already where they wanted to be… _how_ they wanted to be. One single flame.

Their union lasted as long as Sully could sustain it, after both of them had reached the absolute state of bliss, almost unwittingly. Their hold onto one another's hands gradually loosened, and their kiss eventually slowed to a stop, when the prosaic and much colder world outside reclaimed their attention again. Voices and footsteps from the occupants of the neighboring rooms could be heard on the other side of their door, encroaching onto their peaceful quiet and mundanely signaling it was breakfast time. Sighing deeply, Michaela turned fully into her husband's arms to face him.

"What was that sigh for?" Sully murmured against her brow, giving it a soft kiss.

"I don't want to get up," she bemoaned exaggeratedly. He chuckled at the way she frowned, her lower lip sticking out like that of a pouty child, as she snuggled closer. Amused, he pulled the sheet over their heads with a flourish and wrapped his arms around her once again with boyish eagerness.

"Then don't. Let's play hooky!"

Michaela chuckled at her husband's frisky suggestion and then sobered again. She was still somewhat under the spell of their loving, the powerful feeling of communion she had just experienced with him not entirely dissipated. Part of her wanted to cling to it with all her might, not let it vanish… So she clutched Sully's shoulders, pressed her nose to his neck, deeply breathing in his scent, and draped her leg over his, trying to recapture his essence and have it suffuse her being once more. Somewhere at the back of her mind, she wondered about that feeling of completeness. More than once, their lovemaking had carried out the Cheyenne legend of man and woman once created as a single being, their union carnal and spiritual all at once. Now, she found the concept all the more tangible in the light of her seemingly insatiable longing. It wasn't so much for the pleasure he could give her, but more in how he fulfilled her in every way imaginable and how the mere thought of being separated from him, even for a brief period of time, had become unbearable to her, as if she would lose a vital part of herself.

For a long moment, they lay quietly, cocooned within each other's embrace under the covers, and savored both their privacy and the absence of obligations. When they had come back from the train station after saying goodbye to Michaela's mother and sister, Sully had given the clerk the strict instruction that any message for them could wait to be picked up at the front desk, ensuring that there wouldn't be any more inopportune knocks on their door during the last forty-eight hours of their honeymoon. However, the basic necessities of life couldn't be ignored forever, and Michaela ended up grudgingly disengaging herself from Sully's arms to go to the bathroom.

Linking his hands behind his head, Sully grinned secretively, thinking of the surprise he had up his sleeve for his wife: he had noticed during one of their outings that there would be an opera played at the Denver Theatre this Wednesday night, and he had managed to secure two seats without Michaela suspecting anything, for which he was rather pleased with himself. He also secretly hoped she would agree to wear the particularly fabulous evening gown made of royal blue silk and black lace that he had spotted in her extensive wardrobe, yet never seen on her. The gold-trimmed red one she had worn for her mother's birthday party in Boston was certainly becoming, but Sully feared it might make Michaela all the more noticeable. Regardless of his pride to be married to such a beautiful woman or his dislike of seeing other males openly ogling her, it was more that he was aware she didn't care much about being the center of attention, unless it was to take a stand and fight for what she believed in.

Just as he considered joining her, Michaela reappeared in the doorway, wrapped in the plain bathrobe provided by the hotel, a wry smile on her face and a small empty tin cradled in her hand.

"What's that?" Sully asked.

Michaela's cheeks colored a little as she lowered her eyes and answered, "Balm. You know how I always bite my lip, so I have to put some of this on once in a while…"

"And you runnin' out?"

She nodded, somewhat bashfully. Sully got up and came to her, sensuously slipping his arms inside the robe to encircle her naked waist, and bending his head to kiss her neck. "How come?" he murmured teasingly, pleased to see her grin in mock modesty as she answered, "My husband and I have been kissing too much I'm afraid."

"You have? But dontcha know there ain't no such thing as too much kissin'? … But I reckon, if that husband o' yours is the guilty party, he outta go buy you some more." With that he planted tiny kisses all over her face, neck and upper chest, while avoiding her slightly chaffed lips.

Michaela giggled at the silliness of their banter and added, "I think I'd better go with you to the apothecary's. You're very capable and I trust you, but it will be faster if I directly ask for the items I need myself."

"Got it – the faster you get that balm, the faster we'll come back here, right?"

Michaela's smile widened all the more, as she nodded again. "Indeed," she could barely articulate before Sully touched his lips to hers ever so lightly, repeatedly. Soon they both succumbed to their need for a much deeper contact, fueled by their badinage. The kiss soon became charged with restrained passion, as they both tried to resist their attraction only to find themselves hopelessly trapped in a lustful spiral. Impulsively, Sully braced his wife against the doorframe, grabbing at her thigh. The loose knot of her sash unfurled, leaving the bathrobe suggestively gaping. Sully would have lost all control if not for Michaela's supreme effort of will in breaking off the kiss. Winded and burning with thwarted desire, she still found enough presence of mind to push him away and touch his chin to stop him – and herself, for that matter – from kissing again.

"I'd better get dressed and go buy that balm, or we won't be able to kiss anymore," she reasoned in a husky voice.

Breathless and frustrated too, yet not entirely bereft of his sense of humor, Sully could only answer just as hoarsely, "We can't have that, can we?"

For once, they took the time to enjoy their breakfast in the dining room, before heading out. It was a clear, sunny day, but the air had grown much cooler as the North wind was blowing in treacherous gusts, making the couple all the more eager to return to their room as soon as possible. Their postponed encounter had left them on edge, and yet, they suffered an odd sort of thrill at deferring it, as the experiences of the past week had taught them that the longer the anticipation of their coming intimacy lasted, the greater their satisfaction would be in the end.

The apothecary's shop was only a few blocks from the hotel, so they chose to go on foot rather than use a streetcar, walking briskly to ward off the chill. Along the way, they came across a small open market, its stands displaying various vegetables, fruit and other farm products, as well as flowers. Sully had noticed the florist's stand presented roses in a wide array of ravishing colors, and as he waited for Michaela to make her purchases in the store, he considered buying her a bouquet on their way back. He had occasionally brought her flowers he had picked himself in the meadow at home, but even when he had courted her in Boston, or during their stay in Washington, he hadn't thought of offering her roses. Now, he remembered how her face had lightened up and her eyes had sparkled with joy when he had handed her the rosebud from Flash' victory garland. He knew she _loved_ roses above all flowers, to the point she had even expressed the fancy of growing a few rose bushes in the garden she was planning to put in at the new homestead. He wasn't too sure the soil there was appropriate for such projects, but he knew all too well how stubborn she was. She wouldn't give up…

Michaela's interest in herbal medicine perked up when she entered Berwick's Apothecary. The shop was tiny and crammed with jars of herbs and tinctures. The familiar aromas of bitter, eye-watering vapors, spices, waxed wood, and the delicious smell of leather and old paper from the heavy volumes about empiric medical science, squeezed into a nearly collapsed bookcase, made her feel at home. For but a split second, she expected an Indian medicine man to come forward, before dourly reminding herself that at the rate the government was going in their policy of getting rid of the Red Man, soon there wouldn't be anybody left to share the wise ways of Indian medicine…

Just then the salesclerk appeared, as if out of nowhere, and he smiled with genuine delight. It wasn't often he had the luck to have such a beautiful woman gracing his humble shop! However, he soon recovered his professional manner as he realized the lady wasn't alone, but with a man who was probably her husband, judging by his protective closeness.

Michaela took the opportunity to stock up on the various ingredients she needed to prepare her own tinctures, salves and liniments, those she normally ordered from New York, Chicago or Boston at a rather forbidding cost. The idea pleased her greatly that she would be saving a substantial sum from now on, with a supplier so much closer! She ended up buying so many items that she chose to have the crate delivered directly to Colorado Springs, rather than encumber themselves with it on the train, only pocketing the small tin of beeswax balm for immediate use. The salesman then thanked her so profusely for her business that it made her almost uncomfortable. Nevertheless, she was quite satisfied with making such a bargain!

Chivalrously, Sully held the door for his wife and offered his arm as they started back toward their hotel.

"You sure the things you bought from that fella are as good as the ones you usually order from back East?" asked Sully a bit worriedly, as he had noticed the rather shabby appearance of the shop and its owner.

Michaela shrugged. "I don't see why they wouldn't be… I agree that it didn't look as tidy as it should have been in there, but I made several inquiries about finding a supplier closer to home for the medicines I can't prepare myself, and the name came up several times…"

They went on talking about medicine, and her projects of cultivating more medicinal plants in her garden. She even suggested they set aside one of her recovery rooms to install her very own laboratory. Sully chuckled indulgently – her passionate nature enchanted him, even if it wasn't presently directed toward him. He no longer resented her deep-seated love for medicine, and he no longer felt he was coming second or last after her work and the Cooper children. _At least for now_. He shooed away the inopportune thought that once they got home to Colorado Springs, her priorities might shift again… _No need to borrow trouble when it don't exist,_ he reminded himself.

They had almost reached the market, so Sully suddenly stopped them a few yards from the first stand.

"D'you mind waitin' for me, here? I'll be back in a minute…"

Her curiosity piqued to its fullest at the twinkle in his eyes, Michaela barely managed to keep it in check, only doing so because it seemed important to him. She nodded her assent, wondering what surprise he had up his sleeve.

He made her wait for him near a shop that sold beautiful china and exquisitely ornate dishware, hoping the items shown in the window might distract her from looking his way.

The florist beamed when she spotted the handsome long-haired man she had seen passing by earlier coming back and standing at a strategic angle so that the woman who accompanied him wouldn't see what he was up to. Upon noticing his slight impatience at his own inability to choose, she took matters into her own hands.

"For the pretty lady you're with, Sir?" she assumed, casting a look beyond his shoulder toward Michaela, who was thankfully looking at the china. "Your wife?"

Sully nodded eagerly, relieved to see the florist quickly gather a lush assortment of deep red, fiery orange and soft coral roses with long stems of baby's breath. The resulting bouquet was even more stunning that Sully could have hoped for.

"Here you are. That'll be three dollars even," the florist said as she handed Sully the flowers in exchange for the cash. Since Sully didn't have a clue about the average price of flowers, whether in Denver or back East, he couldn't have been able to tell if the sum he was paying for the roses was reasonable or he was being swindled. Yet something in his gut told him the woman's smile was sincere, and he had to admit she had done a remarkable job of creating such a beautiful arrangement at record speed and discretion.

"Much obliged, ma'am," he said with a last nod in adieu, before turning back toward his wife.

Michaela's eyes widened as she beheld the magnificent bouquet of roses, and shook her head in astonishment.

"Sully! You shouldn't have…" she protested only half-heartedly, feeling overwhelmed by joy and gratitude, but at the same time hardly deserving of such outpouring love. Without a care in the world for any possible onlookers, she slipped her hand under the fall of his hair at his nape to draw his lips to hers for a sweet, lingering, thankful kiss. "What is the occasion?" she asked curiously as she pulled back.

"Weren't it you who said a while back that ya didn't always need a reason ta give presents?" he teased, answered by her giggles. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and steered her away from the market, oblivious of the wistful stare and half-smile of the florist who was watching them go with a faint pang of envy tugging at her heart.

As they ambled along the paved sidewalk, Michaela took a better look at the bouquet now cradled in the crook of her arm, softly fingering a delicate bud. She caught her breath as she fully took in the arrangement of colors and blushed, its significance suddenly registering in her mind.

"Sully!" she exclaimed again.

"Mmmh?"

"Did… did you actually ask for this bouquet in particular?" she asked in a loud whisper, as if there was some sort of shameful secret.

Confused, Sully shook his head. "Nope. I couldn't decide which ones to pick out. They were all real pretty. So the flower lady fixed this one for ya, and that was it."

"Oh…What did you tell her?"

"Not much. She musta seen us together…What is it, 'Chaela? You don't like 'em?"

"No, no—I love them… It's just that…"

"They ain't _appropriate_?" he ventured a guess.

Her flustered hesitation and deepening blush gave her away more so than her explanation. "No—not exactly… It's just that… Are… Are we _that_ obvious?"

"What d'ya mean?" He had a fair idea of her interpretation of the bouquet, but he wanted her to say it, rather than skirting around the issue. He was convinced the intention of embarrassing his wife had never crossed the florist's mind, and that it was merely a case of Michaela's Boston ways resurfacing. When she failed to give him an answer, he reformulated his question, "What do _they_ mean?"

Her eyes lowered, she stammered, "Well—I… you probably know the red roses mean 'love'… and 'passion'…"

"Huh-huh… And?"

"They also mean 'courage' and 'respect'…"

"And what's wrong about that?"

"It's the orange[1] and coral ones… They express… oh dear!" She pressed her cool hand to her flushed cheek. She just couldn't bring herself to say the words when they were this out in the open!

"You sayin' they mean 'I want ya'… or 'I wanna make love with ya'?" he murmured so low in her ear she could barely hear him.

Nearly paralyzed with the fear of being heard discussing such intimate matters right there in the middle of the street, with her face probably a deep crimson to make matters worse, Michaela cast her husband her furtive glance before looking away. Nodding ever so lightly, she mumbled, "Maybe not so explicitly, but you have the general idea…"

"And how d'you know that, huh?" he wondered out loud how on Earth someone with a puritan upbringing like his wife could be aware of such things.

"I told you that my mother almost didn't come to our wedding because of her annual charity flower show…"

He acquiesced silently.

"She's been the main chairwoman for the event for as long as I can remember. Needless to say, she somehow managed to enroll my sisters and me into contributing in one way or the other every year. I often ended up putting bouquets together following the instructions I was given. Some of the ladies from my mother's comity knew quite a lot about the different meaning of each flower, depending on their color, their number, how they were arranged… That's how I learned which ones were deemed suitable and which ones should be avoided depending on the occasion…"

Sully couldn't help but laugh. "Of all the things to fuss 'bout!... Wanna know what I think?" he asked, his tone deliberately light in the hope of diffusing her fretting. She peered up at him, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. "I'm willin' to bet that flower lady probably didn't think of all this… She just noticed how in love we are, and picked out her prettiest roses because _you_ are the prettiest lady around…"

He stopped them in their tracks and turned to cup her face lovingly, drinking in her beloved features, before he added, "…and I couldn't agree more."

Once they were back at the hotel, to the warmth and privacy of their suite, Michaela had barely put the flowers in a borrowed vase before she flung her arms around Sully's neck and initiated a fervent kiss. When she pulled back, her cheeks still a bright shade of pink, she said breathlessly, "I didn't even thank you for the roses."

"Yes, you did—"

"Not _appropriately_ ," she specified, quirking her eyebrows meaningfully. "And I'm sorry about making such a fuss about them… It was foolish…"

"Yeah, it was," Sully emphasized, tongue-in-cheek.

Michaela's eyes briefly narrowed in mock vexation, but she couldn't help but grin broadly as she retorted, "Didn't I tell you that you don't have to agree with me all the time?" She then leaned in to kiss him once more, any embarrassment forgotten as their contact deepened urgently. Sparks flew between them, instantly reigniting the raw desire that had been smoldering for the past couple of hours.

Sensing that they wouldn't be able to put off their physical union much longer, Sully broke off the kiss only momentarily to tease her, "Well, then…You're welcome… _Honey._ " Provocatively, he ran his tongue over his lips, tasting the distinctive flavor of her balm-coated ones.

Her blush deepened all the more at his risqué innuendo and the remembrance of the circumstances when he had first given her this normally innocuous pet name, but she broke into a fit of laughter just the same. "Oh, _you_!" she chided with a playful slap on his arm, before he reclaimed her mouth fiercely, their lips and tongues locked in an exciting duel.

The sexual tension from their interrupted loving earlier that morning and presently revived by their amorous banter and kisses made her feel as giddy and intoxicated as if she'd had several glasses of champagne. Barely conscious of anything save the raging fire taking over her body, heart and soul and desperate to soothe the ache it was leaving in its wake, she didn't pay much thought to how fast things were escalating…

Neither did Sully. In a matter of seconds, he had her perched on the edge of their bed, her skirts bunched up and her blouse and camisole ripped open to reveal her breasts, onto which he pressed ravenous, open-mouthed kisses. In turn, she feverishly untucked his shirt from his buckskins so she could slip her hands underneath and touch the heated skin of his torso, clawing possessively at the taut muscles. But it wasn't enough – they both needed more of the other. They needed all… Right there and then. It didn't matter to whom belonged the hand that unbuttoned Sully's pants, or who untied and drew down Michaela's pantaloons with such impatience that they got torn... It didn't matter that they didn't even bother to entirely disrobe. It only mattered that she welcomed him gladly and enthusiastically inside her, inhaling sharply and then letting out her breath in a long hissed groan.

Yet, despite the all-consuming urgency that drove their bodies together in a fast, vigorous rhythm until they reached the explosive conclusion of their coupling, it was still their love that burnt the brightest in their hearts. It was their love that shone in their eyes as they quietly held each other afterwards.

Once he had cooled down enough and regained some of his consciousness and equilibrium, Sully fully took in their mutual disheveled appearance, and realized just how brash their union had been. He couldn't help the pang of shame and concern that in the heat of the moment, he hadn't only damaged his wife's clothing but also her trust in him and his promise to _take it ever so easy_ , and not push her too far beyond her limits. Not that it was the first time the force of their attraction had gotten the best of him, but this time… the violence of his desire had been so overpowering — what if he had hurt her? What if the cries she had muffled in the crook of this neck had been of pain instead of pleasure? What if the way she had so savagely clapperclawed his shoulders had been a sign of distress rather than a way of showing him her enjoyment?

Michaela's head was lolling onto his chest, just under his chin. She was indeed leaning rather limply against him, her breathing still uneven… as he listened more attentively, he perceived the softest of sounds, somewhere between whimpering and purring, coming from the back of her throat. Then she moved a little, in an attempt to straighten herself up, and as she pressed her lips to his partially exposed collarbone and caressed his sides, he sighed in relief, knowing she wouldn't be acting loving like this if he had indeed hurt her.

"You all right?" he asked sotto voce, partly to reassure himself, yet with a slightly amused undertone.

Michaela shuddered at the effect his voice was having on her in the state she was in. She couldn't remember ever feeling this physically weak – except for when she had been struck by the influenza – nor this… this possessed, this out-of-control! Yet, the certainty of their love was now sturdy enough to shield her from experiencing shame or disgust… She nodded in answer to his question, unable to articulate any kind of verbal response just yet… After the few more seconds it took to fully assess the situation, the absolute wantonness of it all suddenly struck her as highly humorous and she burst out into quiet chuckles.

When her shoulders started heaving, Sully realized she was laughing and joined in her mirth, gratefully hugging her once more.

"That was…" he began, searching for the adequate adjective. Michaela only laughed all the more, turning up her flushed face toward his.

"Indescribable?" she eventually managed to utter in an uncharacteristically lazy drawl.

"That pretty much describes it," Sully joshed back, tilting up her chin a little more so he could kiss her one last time with all the love, passion and tenderness he had in him.

Lust would come and go, occasionally blow them away as it had just done, but never, ever would it surpass the love that had sealed their two souls into one forever…

* * *

"D'ya feel up to go downstairs for lunch?" Sully asked casually, his wife's decision on the matter instrumental to the surprise he had planned, thus on whether he'd changed into a suit or not.

Michaela picked up her discarded pantaloons with one hand and showed her damaged camisole and blouse with the other.

"I'd love to, but I need to change _these_ first," she said, flashing him a wry, slightly embarrassed crooked grin.

"Sorry about that," he apologized with a contrite caress to her cheek. "I'll get you new ones."

Michaela shrugged and admitted in a hushed tone, as if more to herself than to him "Don't be sorry, there's nothing I can't mend on my own… Besides, it's not like I was being careful either…."

Her remark made them both snicker softly, Sully feeling as relieved as he was delighted that she was taking the incident so good-naturedly. She certainly had overcome a lot of inhibitions in the course of the past few days, yet something was warning him not to take her relaxed state for granted and that she might relapse into an occasional bout of Boston prudishness in the future.

Michaela rushed to the bathroom to try and put her clothing and hair back in order, but also to give herself some time to recover from what had just happened and her consequent mixed feelings. She couldn't decide whether she should scowl at her flushed, disarrayed reflection in the mirror, or surrender to the complete euphoria her soul seemed to be soaking in and let her glee burst forth. She felt a bit like a little child expecting a scolding for being naughty without really feeling sorry about it, instinctively knowing it called more for indulgence and laughter than severity.

If she was honest with herself, she had to admit that she had thoroughly enjoyed their impetuous encounter, like there was some secret thrill that they both had been unable to wait until they were fully unclothed to make love. Was it only a few weeks before that she had confessed her fears about intimacy to him during premarital counseling? Had she changed that much? Or had their intimacy merely liberated the most primeval part of herself…? There was no denying she had always been of a passionate nature, but for nearly thirty five years, the passion she had in her had all but be diverted from the desires of the flesh… Her sensuality had lain dormant under the heavy shroud of ignorance and fear of sin, until she had met Sully – the one who was destined to ignite its flame. Her perfect match. Her soul mate. Her _husband_ … How could she feel wicked from loving and needing Sully the way she did? Any shame she had been taught she ought to be feeling regarding her enjoyment of the carnal pleasures henceforth felt ridiculous and insignificant, as if reduced to ashes and scattered to the wind.

As she jabbed the last of the hairpins into her bun and straightened the lace collar of her dress, she cast one last defiant and proud look at her reflection, as if she wasn't looking at her present self, but at the impersonation of the life she was leaving behind for good. She would no longer feel ashamed, _ever_ , of loving Sully not only with all her heart and soul, but with her body as well…

Meanwhile, Sully had once more traded his buckskins for the dark grey suit, smiling ruefully as he thought about the even more stylish white bow and tailcoat he would have to don later in the afternoon to attend the opera. Truth to be told, he felt strangely excited at the prospect, as if reliving the magic of their courtship in Boston while being mercifully rid of all the awkwardness, the uncertainties and of course the threat of another man vying for Michaela's hand.

He patted his inner pocket where he had stashed the tickets, satisfied with his plans for the evening, and turned around just as Michaela emerged for the bathroom. She too had changed into fancier attire and was presently wearing a lovely gown of striped blue and grey brocade that could have been designed to match his suit. Black lace adorned the sleeves and framed the square décolletage of the bodice, while cream-colored silken underskirt and ruches enhanced the elegance of the ensemble. Thin tendrils escaped from her up-do in soft curls, accentuating the fineness of her features. And she had put on a fresh dab of perfume… That fragrance of hers could still tantalize all his senses in a heartbeat even after almost two weeks of breathing it in all day and all night long.

Her reappearance gave him a powerful jolt of déjà-vu, transporting him back to that evening when he had shown up in Mrs. Quinn's dining room bedecked in the very same suit he was presently wearing, and she, the same gown. Only she was now smiling at him without reserve and her eyes shone with unmistakable love. She was so exquisitely beautiful she took his breath away. He indeed felt as tongued-tied as a nervous suitor intending to invite out the lady he was sweet on for the first time and grappled for an adequate compliment. But no word praiseful enough came to mind, so he merely took her hand and brought it to his lips to kiss it as ardently as he was looking at her.

Moved by his silent but evident devotion, she rose to her tiptoes to give his lips a soft kiss, effectively bringing him out of his trance-like state by reminding him she was now his wife and no longer that inaccessible lady he had so tentatively wooed in Boston. Grinning down at her, he offered her his arm, and together they headed for the main dining room.

Downstairs, Michaela and Sully had trouble making their way through the flurry of waiters rushing to and fro between the kitchens and their appointed customers, arms laden with huge silver plates, but eventually they could sit at their assigned table in a far corner, which guaranteed them relative privacy.

The menus were brought surprisingly fast, considering how many patrons were swarming the restaurant, which was a relief as they were both famished. Usually only moderately, if not at all, interested in food, this time Michaela felt like sampling almost everything that was mentioned on the menu, and eventually decided for a light hors d'oeuvres of asparagus and tomatoes, the leg of lamb with its jardinière of spring vegetables for the main course, and as desert, she chose a strawberry tartlet, while Sully opted for a fried artichoke, a rack of veal cooked with honey and thyme followed by something called Poire Belle-Hélène, which Michaela explained was a poached pear served with chocolate sauce and whipped cream.

While they were waiting for their meal, they made light conversation, speculating about what was going on in Colorado Springs in their absence, and wondering whether Mrs. Quinn and Rebecca would be able to catch up and reason with Marjorie.

When the waiter finally brought their deserts, Michaela asked, "What would you like to do this afternoon?"

Her question was the opening he had been waiting for. "We can do anythin' you want, as long as we get—" He reached inside his coat and produced the tickets with a flourish, " _there_ on time."

Michaela gasped in surprised and burst into an elated grin as she read aloud, " _Le Nozze di Figaro_!... Oh Sully! It's wonderful!" She looked back up at him, her gently reproving expression belied by the way her eyes were sparkling. "You're spoiling me… The roses, and now you're taking me to the opera?"

"It ain't about spoilin' ya, it's about us enjoyin' an evenin' out together. I love bein' with ya, spendin' time with ya, no matter where or how… That time when we went to see _La Traviata_? It was one of the best times I ever got."

"Truly?"

"I'm tellin' ya," he asserted, once again kissing her hand across the table. At that moment, Michaela had to resist the urge to rise and go to him for a hug and a kiss of gratitude. When she thought she couldn't feel more adored, he would come up with a new surprise for her! She gave his fingers a light squeeze and gazed at him earnestly, hoping he would see how grateful she was for him, not only for the flowers or the opera, but for all he was to her.

They decided to stay in for the afternoon and went to the game room for a few hours. Given what had transpired between them the last time they had challenged each other over chess, they preferred to play it safe and chose simpler games, like canasta or backgammon. At one point, a couple of men invited Sully to join them for a game of billiard. He easily won the game, under Michaela's proud scrutiny.

Then, the time came for them to go up for their last change of clothing for the day. Sully made arrangements to have supper delivered to their room so they could eat right before leaving for the opera which would begin at nine. He wanted the evening to be perfect.

As they consumed their meal, both still in their underclothes to prevent any mishap to their evening dress, they jested about Sully teaching his wife to play pool and both chortled when picturing the scandalized stares and protests they were sure to elicit if they were to try it someday. Then Sully revealed that, back when he was a young miner making his way out west, he had once come across a woman who knew her way around the billiard and wasn't afraid to stand up to men. Michaela acted all suspicious and demanded to know who exactly was this woman and how well had her husband gotten to know her, to which he deftly answered that she had no reason at all to feel jealous – though he found her even more beautiful when she was – for he couldn't even remember neither the name nor the exact appearance of that female pool player. To put paid to any doubt Michaela might truly harbor behind her good-natured grin, he leant forward to kiss her lovingly…

They finished dining and helped each other with the remaining of their clothes so that, less than twenty minutes later, they stood facing each other, the mood between them shifting from light-hearted to rife with tension, as if their attending the opera here in Denver, during their honeymoon, was just as momentous for their relationship as it had been in Boston.

As he had sensed, Michaela was truly spectacular in the blue gown. She had readily agreed to wear it, since among her lush wardrobe, there was her heavy, fur-lined, black velvet mantle that would prevent her for being cold during their nightly outing. Sapphire drops edged with two rows of tiny diamonds dangled from her ears and she wore the matching pendant, which she had slipped onto a velvet ribbon and tied into a chocker around her graceful throat. As for her coiffure, she had taken out a few tresses at her nape, styled them into large ringlets, and completed the ensemble by pining in three small black feathers near her temple.

"You look just like a princess out of a fairy tale," he murmured, almost hesitating to reach out and take her hand as if she might vanish like an illusion. But no, she felt excitingly real when she stepped closer, and rose to her tiptoes to press her lips to his, as she had done before lunch, clutching the lapels of his tail-coat passionately.

"And you, like the Prince Charming," she breathed when she pulled back, a twinkle in her eyes as she picture herself as Cinderella being whisked away by her Prince on a white horse for the annual Halloween party. She smiled to herself at the fantasy, while Sully raised his eyebrows almost comically in surprise at her compliment.

As if he was reading her mind, he joshed, "We'd better go, then, before the carriage turns inta pumpkin or somethin'." They burst into laughter once more, the expectant and somewhat nostalgic tension diffused for the time being.

The opera was performed in the Denver Theatre, formerly known as the Platte Valley Theatre. It was as lively and subtly funny as Mozart, Da Ponte[2] and Beaumarchais had originally meant it to be, yet nowhere as impressive and brilliantly staged as the operas back East. Both the company and their performances were actually destined to be forgotten, never appearing in the theatre's archives. The artists were encountering difficulties to get themselves known in the area and would split barely two years later for lack of funding and generous sponsors.

Despite the somewhat amateurish flavor of the show, Sully and Michaela had a wonderful time, as she reprised her task of whispering the many twists and turns of the plot and explaining the meaning of the sung dialogues and various arias to him. Only this time, they weren't attending a tragedy, but a comic opera, and they could hold hands and share secret smiles of loving connivance, both unaware that their closeness was still remarkable even in the semi-darkness. Sully did have a fleeting sensation they were being watched a couple of times, but every time he scanned the audience, he only saw spectators either entirely focused on what was happening on stage or seemingly bored out of their mind. He could only suppose that they didn't understand much of what was going on, and that he was probably the only man in the theatre lucky enough to have a beautiful companion, sitting so close he could feel the warmth of both her body and soul, who was generous enough to whisper the story to him, interspersed with words of love.

After the performance, neither felt like lingering in the theatre hall to socialize with the other attendees, as they only longed for the privacy of their hotel suite. One single glance sufficed to let the other know what they both had in mind…

Outside, the temperature had dropped even further, the wind so bitter it almost felt like it was freezing. Michaela shivered and huddled close to her husband all the way back to their room, still chilled to the bone even as they crossed the warm lobby and ascended the stairs.

Securely locking their door behind them with one hand, Sully rubbed her shoulder and upper arm through the thick material of her mantle with the other.

"Let's warm you up," he suggested, his voice dropping to a husky baritone that heralded his intentions to do much more than simply restoring his wife's normal body temperature.

In the darkened room, the only light came from the still glowing embers in the hearth from the fire he had cursorily banked before they had left for the opera. Fortunately, their suite had retained some of the heat from earlier, and it wouldn't take long to rekindle the fire.

Michaela quietly watched him, as if mesmerized, as he knelt in front of the chimney, poker in hand, strategically placed kindling and stirred the remnants of the nearly consumed log until the twigs caught fire, and then he added two more logs that soon started to burn as well. His task complete, he turned toward her, extending his hand in invitation to join him.

She removed her cape and draped it carelessly over the back of the armchair as she approached him, her movements slow, almost sleepwalking-like. Sully rose to his feet and went to her, only pausing briefly to remove his own frock coat, tails and bowtie. He leant in to initiate a passionate kiss, but something indefinable in her expression stopped him. Her gaze was directed at him, but her eyes held a dreamy haziness he didn't know what to make of.

"Somethin' the matter?" he inquired softly, wondering if perhaps he had once more misread her demeanor and that she actually wasn't feeling up to making love again. Perhaps she simply was too cold and tired. They both had had a long, eventful day, after all, and it was nearly midnight already…

Michaela shook her head, as well as herself out of the haunting memory of the disturbingly arousing dream that had woken her up the night he had shown up in Boston. Of course, back then she didn't have a clue about what it was truly like to _be_ with a man. She'd barely had any inkling of all the wondrous sensations she would one day experience in Sully's arms, the few physical contacts she'd had with him thus far only fleeting hints. Even their first kiss, on her birthday, as much as it had undeniably left her wanting for more, hadn't neither revealed how multiple and intricate the roots of love and desire could be, nor how far and deep they could reach…

The old feeling of inadequacy threatened to come back as she remembered how naïve and clumsy she had used to be, but she determined not to let it destroy her new confidence. _Especially not tonight_.

"Nothing, it's silly," she eventually answered.

"What is?" he insisted gently. He didn't want to let her fret about something, to hold a secret, no matter how _silly_ she claimed it was. He considered he had seen and heard his share of silliness escalating into arguments or spoiling their moments of intimacy, so he wasn't about to let this one go.

"Promise you won't laugh?" she asked, half relenting.

"I promise… so, tell me, what were ya thinkin' just now?"

She then let out a soft snort of laughter as she realized she was making much more out of it than she should, for that dream had been quite innocent, all things considered.

"Remember the night you turned up on my mother's doorstep? I showed you to the guest room and…"

"You were so formal with me all of a sudden… I was scared you were wishin' I hadn't come at all."

His tone wasn't upset or reproaching, and he was still smiling tenderly at her so, reassured, she continued, "I did act rather standoffishly… but that didn't mean I didn't want you there… and later, after I had gone to bed, I… dreamed… about _you_."

"You did?" he smirked, not really surprised.

She nodded, lowering her eyes momentarily.

"And what was I doin' in that dream?"

"You—We kissed…"

Sully's grin broadened. The meaning of Michaela having such a dream at that point of their lives, when even pursuing an innocent friendship had seemed jeopardized, didn't escape him. Now that they were happily married, her candid confession only gave him another reason to adore her and cherish what they'd built together from the moment they had finally admitted their feelings to one another. It also made him wonder how she would react should he reveal he had dreamed of her as well that very same night, but that it hadn't stopped at mere kisses. Would she be shocked as well to know how soon he had begun to imagine how it might feel to make love to a woman like her, how many restless nights he'd spent being tortured by so many vivid fantasies…? Maybe – unless her subconscious had conjured up a little more than the dream she was telling him about.

"What kinda kiss?" he probed mischievously.

She hesitated but for a second, suddenly feeling strangely excited by the prospect of reenacting her fantasy and fulfilling it. A bold impulsion made her retrace her steps to the door, and she put her hand on the handle.

At first, Sully feared he had pushed his curiosity too far and that it was still too soon for her to reveal her most intimate secrets. But then she cast him a glance over her shoulder. Even in the dim light provided by the fire, he could see her eyes were heavy with longing and issuing an invitation he couldn't ignore. He joined her just as she turned around, still holding onto the brass knob, and began recounting what had happened in the secret of her subconscious that night. Her voice dropped to that rich, sultry contralto that was as captivating as the needful shimmer in her eyes.

"I was reliving the moment I was bidding you goodnight, only… I didn't leave. I couldn't. You put your hand on mine… like this." She took his hand and demonstrated. "Then you caressed my arm up to my shoulder, I turned around, and…"

Her breath caught. The naked hunger in Sully's eyes was even more potent than it had been in her dream. For it was no dream, and he was no longer forced to carefully mask his feelings. The electricity between them instantly flared up, their attraction such a powerful force it was almost tangible, like two giant, invisible hands pulling their bodies close together.

"And…?" he encouraged, his own voice emerging in a rough murmur.

"And…" She tilted up her face, her lips parting in anticipation, her eyes fluttering shut. "You kissed me… like you did on my birthday." Taking his cue, Sully brushed his lips across hers, the contact brief but heart-stopping. Michaela quivered from the whirlwind of sensations brought upon by her husband's touch, the remembrance of that dream they were literally embodying, and how it was charging the atmosphere with the odd thrill of commencing a passionate, prohibited romance.

"That's all?" he asked, lower still.

She shook her head.

"Show me how it was done, then," he suggested, hoping she would get the hint that not only he would love for her to be in charge again, but that he wished she would express her own desires and preferences straightforwardly. He was rewarded by the feisty spark flashing in her eyes when she reopened them for a few seconds to peer up at him, and even more so when she clutched his shoulders to pull herself up so their mouths could met briefly again. Then she rained butterfly kisses all over his face, jaw and neck, even daring to touch her lips to the lobe of his ear, while her hands tentatively explored his torso.

This time, it was Sully's turn to tremble with anticipation and need. The softness of her lips upon his skin was affecting him in unimaginable ways. And when her kisses converged back to his mouth, when she deepened their contact in a torturously slow, voluptuous manner, he nearly lost all control. He pulled away, his breathing ragged.

"So you kissed me back like this in your dreams?" he rasped, his question a mere attempt to give himself some time to cool down.

Michaela's features lit up. "No. This is how _you_ kissed and touched me as the dream went on…" Mischievous amusement tugged up the corner of her mouth as she took in the state he was in and added, "So you _understand_ how it made me feel, and why it woke me up so suddenly…"

Sully gulped as he pictured Michaela in her Boston bed that night, tossing and turning, flushed and perspiring, perhaps even moaning his name, when only a few feet away, he too was experiencing a restless, broken night. And then the explanation of her behavior the next morning dawned on him, when she had fled so suddenly, almost as soon as he had appeared. He could remember how strained her smile had been, and how she had seemed to look anywhere but at him, as if afraid he might read what was on her mind…

Now, she was no longer shying away from him, but actually acting in a deliciously bold, light-hearted way, and he surmised she was unlikely to recoil in shocked embarrassment should he confess his own dream.

"I reckon we both felt pretty confused that night… havin' such strong feelings for each other… _wantin'_ each other… but not bein' able to do anythin' 'bout it, thinkin' we were too different…"

"You mean—"

"I dreamed 'bout you, too, that night. Same kinda dream… wantin' ya so bad I can still taste it right now…"

"Oh, my… you mean we actually dreamed the same thing?" Her eyes grew wide in astonishment. Could have their uncanny spiritual bond been that strong already? Or was it simply that their instincts had already known they belonged together, their bodies reacting so strongly to one another's presence after being deprived of their other half's proximity for close to a month, that those dreams had been conjured up to make them aware of the inexorable nature of their attraction?

"Not exactly… In my dream, you came back to my room after I'd gone to bed, you lit a fire in the chimney and…" He hesitated, in fear of offending her for the way he had fantasized about her, when back then it would have been totally outside of her true realm of action.

"And?"

"You came to the bed, took your dress off… and we made love."

Michaela gasped. His answer was laconic, but it was still more than enough for her to picture how such a scene might have unfolded in his imagination. She wondered if he might really enjoy for her to wake him up in the middle of the night and offer herself – _just like that_. Even if he had welcomed her initiatives up until then and gone as far as encouraging her to lead their lovemaking two nights before, the idea of imposing herself on her husband whenever she would feel the need was still going somewhat against her grain. It was one thing to be making love to him when he expressed the wish, and quite another to become the aggressor totally on her own will… The fact that he had dreamed of such a situation was certainly telling her he would not mind a bit, but a lasting remnant of reserve stopped her from planning to act it out later in the night… _But maybe, one day…_

Sully was a bit unsure of how to interpret her momentary speechlessness: was she appalled, as he had dreaded, or was she contemplating the idea? He barely dared expect the latter, yet, considering the way their relationship had been evolving, he did hope she might, one day, take upon herself to initiate their intimacy without feeling that she had to wait for a sign from him. but she smiled softly, reassuring him about her mood.

Presently, there was little doubt for both of them regarding what was to happen. The slow kisses, shared secret and warm glow of the firelight were giving their amorous anticipation a dream-like quality while being excitingly _real_. They both leaned in toward one another to kiss again, long and deep, their lips and tongues meeting in their now familiar sensual dance, while their hands resumed the caresses that communicated their mutual desires better than any word could.

Though he consciously wanted their night to be as magical as their wake-up loving, Sully had again to struggle with the urgent force of his arousal as it egged him on to reiterate his exploits of their later encounter. The buttons at the back of her dress felt impossibly numerous, tiny and stuck, when at the same time, her skin had never felt more sweet-smelling or softer, taunting him further. Her body heat seemed to be seeping through the many layers of fabric that concealed her feminine attributes… She was all velvet and silk and warmth and heady fragrance, an entire sensuous world on her own that he would never tire of exploring and gladly lose himself into.

Michaela, too, was attempting to rid her husband of his clothes, her fingers reaching blindly for the buttons of his shirt, then fumbling with the fastenings of his tuxedo trousers. The will to draw out every second of this wonderful night, to savor every sensation and emotion to their fullest, was once again – and more than ever – at war with the heavy pressure of arousal demanding its immediate relief. She was shaking so strongly, her knees threatening to buckle under her, that she clung all the more to Sully, just as she had in her dream… And like in her dream, she felt herself spiraling into a voluptuous vertigo, one in which every sensation was magnified tenfold to the point that it soon became too much, too good, too strong, desire holding her into such an iron grip that it felt like a much more constricting corset than the one she was wearing, She had to shed it, to liberate herself.

When Sully finally freed her from the rigid garment, she did breathe a little easier. She was able to relax a little and catch her breath when he pulled away to swiftly slip her camisole off. Her daze somewhat receded to be replaced by an acute consciousness of his touch on her, his fingers caressingly gliding over her breasts and then slipping under the waistband of her bloomers to slowly ease them down. She let out a few sighs and soft moans as he bent to kiss a wet, winding, lingering trail along her neck, the hollow of her throat under the sapphire pendant, down the valley of her breasts to her navel… Then he was crouching at her feet, his hands enveloping her hips and buttocks with caresses. She guessed his intentions when his tongue began tracing suggestive arabesques on her lower abdomen and upper thighs and felt the powerful throb of yearning and anticipation between her legs. She heard him inhale loudly as he nuzzled the soft patch of hair guarding her femininity, then groan hungrily… and she could not take the weight of her own lust anymore, so weakened by the urgent need to feel him touch her more intimately that her legs could no longer hold her up and abruptly gave way.

Sully caught her before she fell and stood with her cradled in his arms, carrying her not to the bed but to the rug in front of the fire, where he deposited her as delicately as she had been made of porcelain. At that point he no longer cared whether he could hold out or not, as he had only one goal driving him on: give her as much pleasure as he could, however the means. As long as he stayed focused on this, he knew the reward would far surpass any physical gratification. He made short work of divesting her of her boots, stockings and hair ornaments. Her coppery tresses tumbled around her shoulders in an alluring disarray of waves and curls. With only her jewelry left on, the black velvet of the ribbon, the dark gleam of both the sapphires and her gem-like eyes contrasting with the soft alabaster of her skin, she looked like one of those exquisite models, the likeness of which artists would paint or sculpt to make their beauty eternal, for all to admire across the world and the centuries… However, Michaela wasn't someone's muse, but his wife, his partner in everything, and right now she was with him as his lover. So he took off the rest of his clothing and knelt beside her to resume his loving ministrations.

There were no words to adequately describe how much he reveled in the way she reacted to his kisses, to his touch. He loved how expressive her face was, her brow furrowing in need or lifting in bliss, her lips parted in longing… He adored the way she arched up, in a shameless plea for more of his caresses on her breasts, how she tensed, writhed or mellowed under his hands… he delighted in her whimpered panting, her voice transformed into an unearthly, ethereal sound… And he reveled in her intimate essence, that briny scent and sweet-and-sour flavor that only belonged to her and that he alone would ever enjoy, when he eventually returned to his destination.

Michaela slipped back into the trance-like state in which she was no longer in control of anything, least of all her emotional and physical response, and yet supremely aware of everything that was happening, of everything Sully was doing to her. That he craved her body that way was still a source of wonderment. Before they became man and wife, what little she had known regarding sexual practices besides the procreating act itself had seemed strange, even crude and disgusting, as she had only learned about them through caring for abused women, whether they were housewives or saloon girls. Yet, there was nothing repellent in the way Sully could pleasure her like this. Nothing could possibly feel more delectable than his moistened lips lightly sucking and nibbling at the delicate folds of flesh of her womanhood protecting the tiny knot of highly sensitive nerves at their apex. There was nothing more exquisitely erotic than the warm wetness of his tongue exploring so sensually the entire area, the way he usually did when they made love – the patient, attentive and yet playful quest for what gave her the greatest pleasure. The care, the _love_ – that was what made all the difference.

Now liberated from the element of surprise and the wariness of the first time, Michaela could fully appreciate the build-up, like that of a powerful high tide, tugging at her core. Without thinking, she reached down to plunge her hand into her husband's hair and began an encouraging and appreciative stroking of his scalp. But with her body so eroticized by the experience, even the softness of Sully's hair under her fingertips was enough to trigger a warm kind of humming riding up the nerves of her arm to spread to her entire body and adding its energy to the cresting wave of pleasure that soon would break upon her. She could feel it, coming closer, gaining speed and strength and pulling her in more and more, towering above the rest of her perceptions. And then she burst through the gates of her intimate paradise, never more fulfilled, ecstatic and loved…

Michaela's response to his ministrations, the complete trust she put in him at that moment when she was at her most vulnerable, at his total mercy, incommensurably increased Sully's pride, joy, awe and excitement all at once. That he was able to feel each single nuance of the changes occurring in her body as she got more and more aroused was the most delicious privilege he could think of at the moment. And how rewarding were the movements of her fingers through his hair and the way she writhed and quavered rather violently beneath his hands and mouth! How enthralling the strangled, breathless cries she finally let out and the convulsions of culminating pleasure that racked her body!

As exhausted and sated as she was, Michaela was not ready to let herself drift off just yet, at least not until she could thank him and satisfy his own needs. Indeed, when she opened her eyes just as he was sitting up to lean nonchalantly against the settee, she noticed his firm erection. As always, the sight made her heart and belly flutter, even more so with her barely recovering from what she had just experienced. She sat up too, albeit somewhat shakily, and nestled up to him, resting her head on his shoulder for a little while before she finally mustered the courage to initiate. She knew there was no need to ask for his assent, wait for some prompt, or seek a look or a smile that would let her know what he wanted. Somehow, she felt the time was right _now_ , considering what had been happening between them all day and night. She told herself that she would not be making advances out of nowhere, and that his present state was actually an almost certain sign that he would welcome her offer. So, she snuggled closer and plied his neck, shoulders and chest with kisses and caresses. It was so wonderful to reciprocate his loving attentions that it could have easily felt selfish, yet now she knew better – true love, in all its dimensions, was as much about receiving and accepting, as it was about giving.

So delighted was he by her initiative that Sully did not pause to think of her possible reaction as he sought her mouth for a kiss. She did shrink back, stunned by the sudden realization that the foreign taste on his lips was actually her own – what was she supposed to make of that? She blinked bashfully and bit her lip, her doubts already reappearing threateningly from the corner of her subconscious where lately she had been able to relegate them.

Sully guessed what had prompted her to recoil. He feared for a moment this little incident might spoil everything, just when Michaela seemed to be in the process of finally letting go of the last of her inhibitions. But just as he considered saying reassuring words, she seemed to reach the conclusion that it was neither disgusting nor unpleasant and went back to kissing him with sweet fervor. When she pulled away once more, this time to simply catch her breath and peer up at him, she smiled in a way he had never seen before, an endearing mix of confidence, tenderness and sensuality. Love for her swelled in his heart, so suddenly that he felt it pinched. Gently, he cupped her jaw with one hand, and ran his thumb over her kiss-swollen lower lip.

"I love you," he murmured.

"I love you, too," she whispered back emotively, lightly kissing the pad of his thumb. The atmosphere of languid, amorous sweetness truly enveloped her like a second skin and was making her more daring than she would have been when fully alert, prompting her to yield to the sudden impulse of taking his thumb into her mouth and suck it, without the excuse of licking honey off it. Her gesture was so deliciously provocative and reminiscent of their wild foreplay two days before, that he couldn't help uttering a low growl.

"'Chaela…"

She couldn't resist the plea in his voice, in his eyes, in both their bodies. Resolutely, she shifted to kneel across his lap, facing him. Holding his gaze, she reached one of her hands down to stroke his manhood, the other caressing his upper body, similarly to the way he usually touched her, careful and meticulous in her search for the most pleasing moves – _the right pressure, the right rhythm_ _ **[3]**_ … And all the while, she watched his response to her caresses on his countenance.

 _His eyes_ … Unmitigated passion whirled in their depths, the hypnotic blue of his irises reduced to twin phosphorescent rings. _His mouth_ … Telling her how much he loved her through both words and kisses. And how she loved him back! How she felt a part of him as much as he felt a part of her…! The need to reunite with him then became more urgent, so she slid even closer, taking him in and consciously using the soft, warm prehensile ability of her loins to continue what her hand had started.

Sully couldn't believe what was happening. Maybe he was still dreaming… Maybe the dream he had in Boston that night wasn't over yet, and in the morning, he would wake up, cold and half-mad with desire and loneliness, destined to be forever haunted by an elaborate and far too vivid fantasy… But no, it was _real_ , she was so _real_ , the feel of her flesh against his was incredibly comforting and far too pleasurable not to be _real_ , as he held her tightly to assure himself of her tangible presence… Her eyes fixed on him might be scintillating like two out-of-this-world gemstones, but still her presence could not be a dream… His excitement skyrocketed and he came close to losing all control, the erotic sensations she was eliciting from him overwhelming all his senses.

Yet, just as he was about to surrender to the irrepressible, animalistic urge to move under her and thrust his hips upward, he felt an eerie presence lurking… he couldn't explain where the perception came from, but for a second, his instinct, or some sort of sixth sense, warned him with unquestionable certainty of an inopportune, malevolent presence nearby, watching them… He bent his head to trail sensuous, grateful kisses from her earlobe down to the point of her shoulder and took advantage of his movement to cast a furtive glance at the closest window. But unfortunately, the shadows of the night and his pleasure-blurred eyesight didn't allow him to detect anything. Nevertheless, the momentary distraction wasn't so bad after all, for it allowed him to regain some control and stamina, thus enabling him to resynchronize with her slow, deep rhythm…

After a while, Michaela knew she had reached the critical point when she couldn't ignore and deny her own carnal demands much longer or she would surely burst apart. Finding in Sully's eyes the approval she still needed to go on, she completely unleashed the passion that was to guide her as she chased after her release. Anchoring herself more solidly onto his shoulders, her movements picking up speed, she let her head fall back, like someone drowning and searching desperately for air. Her lungs, her heart, her muscles, her mind, each one of her nerves, even her very soul were on fire, it was becoming unbearable, but mercifully the floodgates opened at last and deeply gratifying waves of relief quenched and washed away the furnace within.

Awed, Sully gladly followed her lead, and even though his sitting position somewhat hampered him, still she responded by tightening and contracting around him, drawing him in further, pulling him along toward that heavenly place where their whole beings merged into one, welded by the fire of their mutual passion.

After the blinding, mind-blowing peak of their union, they remained securely wrapped into each other's arms, Michaela's head resting quietly into her favorite niche that was the sinewy hollow right above his collarbone, while Sully lovingly stroked her nape and back under the tangled fall of her hair. Neither was particularly in a hurry to disengage and break their unity to get up and retire to their bed for the night, both comfortably enjoying the crackle of the fire in the earth and its warm, dancing light bathing their damp skins.

"You warm, now?"

Michaela grinned broadly and let out a soft titter, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh of contentment.

"Wonderfully so, thanks to you…" She paused for a second for effect and then added with a newfound cheekiness, "One thing I can say about you, Mr. Sully is that… you certainly know how to lay a fire."

He chuckled and retorted playfully, "and you sure know how to feed it!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Deep orange roses mean desire and enthusiasm as well
> 
> [2] The author of Le Nozze di Figaro's libretto
> 
> [3] Cf chapter 6


	26. Pillow Talk

_Thursday, June 2_ _nd_ _, 1870_

Sully's eyes popped open in the middle of the night. It was pitch black and rather cool in the room. The fire had long died down, leaving only a reddish, weak glow peppering the mounds of ash in the earth.

Here it was again, that strange feeling from the morning before, only stronger… more ominous. Cloud Dancing's anguished face flashed before him against the overwhelming darkness then vanished just as quickly.

"Sully?"

Michaela stirred beside him and spontaneously reached out her hand toward his forehead, which she found slightly sweaty.

"Another headache?" she questioned, sleep clinging to her voice.

"Nah, don't worry, I'm just a bit too hot," he placated her, taking her hand to bring it to his lips. He almost told her he had had a bad dream, but didn't want her to fret anymore or think she had done something wrong, when it had nothing to do with her. "Be right back," he whispered as he rose. As silent as a shadow, he circled the bed and disappeared in the bathroom. Momentarily reassured, Michaela let herself slip back into a light doze. And when Sully came back, she instinctively snuggled close, wrapping her arm across his chest. However, somewhere in her subconscious, she became aware of a sort of emotional distance between her and her husband. She gave herself a firm mental shake, like she would when she faced emergencies during the night, and focused all her attention on him. Just as he seemed to always know when she was worried or upset, she could now perceive quite clearly when he retreated into one of his brooding moods.

"Sully? What aren't you telling me?" she queried pointedly, determined not to let the matter go.

Sully sighed audibly in the deep quietness of the night. The last thing he wanted was to set his wife fussing over something himself found hard to figure out, especially in the middle of the night. She obviously hadn't bought the overheated excuse, so there would be no use to try and come up with another fib. She seemed presently so attuned to his every emotion that she would see through any lie anyway.

"I dunno, really. The past coupla nights, I've been feelin' that something's off…" he began, gently stroking the back of her hand with his thumb, while tightening his hold around her back, in the hope to let her know through their closeness that the cause of his disquiet had nothing to do with her. Indeed, he felt her tense briefly, yet she refrained from commenting, and her light kiss on his chest told him she was giving him time and space to elaborate at his own pace. He had to smile, amused and moved at the same time by this different side of Michaela he was discovering.

"I reckon… knowing we'll have to go back home soon…" Amazingly, as he was trying to find the right words to explain what he was feeling, things were becoming clearer in his consciousness, "I'm thinking about what's gonna happen to Cloud Dancin'… and my duties to Palmer Creek, how it's gonna turn out. I can't help but fear this is just another trick of the government…"

"You have every right to feel this way, Sully. I can't begin to imagine how you must be feeling."

"Sure you do…Remember how you felt after so many Cheyenne died from the typhus?"

"Powerless, and responsible… "

"Yeah."

Michaela sighed as well. They remained silent for a moment, neither able to fall back asleep, until Michaela said:

"Thank you, Sully. I really appreciate you telling me what's on your mind. I know it isn't easy."

For all answer, he shifted a little lower so they were on eye level and he kissed her. Though they could barely see each other in the profound darkness, he found her lips easily and kissed her long, and deep, and she responded to his kiss with as much depth, as much fire, the love flowing between them making short work of dispelling their worrying thoughts.

They once more savored those very special kisses they could share that were so incredibly sensual and fulfilling, for what seemed hours on end, whether as a prelude to making love, or to prolong their emotional connection when the physical one couldn't be sustained any longer. They only stopped momentarily to whisper loving words, and as the sun rose and its rays filtered through the curtains, to gaze rapturously at each other.

Both were acutely conscious that this was their last day of complete privacy, and that they'd better enjoy it to its fullest. The past two weeks had been richer in experiences and discoveries than either could have imagined, and though they had reached a better understanding and knowledge of one another on many levels, they somehow knew they still had a long way to go, and that all the unknown left between them couldn't possibly be unveiled in twenty-four short hours.

Though the weather was sunny and less windy than the day before, hinting at a pleasant balminess, Sully didn't feel inclined to leave their room, or their bed for that matter. He would be content snuggling with Michaela all day long until the time would come to board the train. With the line between Denver and El Paso still brand new, the trains weren't running on a regular basis yet. Some were canceled altogether because the rails or an engine would need maintenance, or the passenger reservations were still too few for the railroad company to make any profit from the trip.

The newlyweds had decided to chance boarding the first southbound train out of Denver, though it was very early, that Friday. There was another scheduled at two o'clock in the afternoon, but then it would mean they would arrive near suppertime and they'd have to rush to get settled in their new home.

It was the wisest choice. Yet, after such an idyllic time together, it almost felt too reasonable, too much of a hard slap from reality. Neither wanted to be wasting the precious time left by mulling over their impending return to Colorado Springs, and yet it was like a constant cloud hovering above them…

But at the moment, what hovered over Sully was his wife's beautiful face. With bright sunlight now streaming into their room, her eyes once more glowed with that luminous, entrancing power in which he would gladly lose himself.

"What are you thinking?" she said after a while, her voice dreamy as she, too, was lost in contemplating adoringly her husband's handsome features.

"Nothin' much… I just love your eyes."

"Do you really?" she wondered, an insecurity she had thought long buried suddenly resurfacing.

"Sure I do. Never saw eyes like yours. Makes ya even more special." His finger gently traced the line of her eyebrows, as he tenderly smiled up at her.

She gave him an appreciative kiss and drew back, looking somewhat wistful.

"I think… you're probably the first person who ever told me that."

"You gotta be jokin'!"

"No really… I've been complimented on my appearance, but my eyes… they were just… odd. When I was young I was… _teased_ because of them." She winced, hinting that it was more than just being made fun of.

"They were just jealous."

Michaela let out a tiny disenchanted laugh. "I don't think so… Even before I decided I wanted to follow in my father's footsteps, I stood apart. My Great Aunt Siobhán, who never approved of my parents' marriage and was quite superstitious, even said more than once that I had to be evil, or possessed to have such eyes. My very existence, being the fifth girl, while being so different, was to her the proof that my father was cursed. Sometimes, she called me 'the punishment', or 'the little witch', and would threaten to have me exorcised and my parents excommunicated…"

"Good thing I never met this aunt of yours, I wouldna be too polite with her… I thought you Ma was bad at times, but if she had this kind of relatives breathin' down her neck when she was younger and criticizin' everythin', guess we gotta give her credit, she turned out pretty well."

"That's sweet of you to say."

"But didn't your Pa tell ya not to pay attention, and tell ya there was nothin' wrong with ya, that your eyes were real pretty?"

"Oh, he did try to reassure me – the best way he knew how – by explaining their peculiar color with science."

"But it didn't do much good, did it?"

"Well… at least I had a perfectly logical explanation to give anyone who would try and tease me, that I just happened to have a certain concentration of a substance called melanin in my right eye, and a different amount in my left eye, just like people have moles on their skin."

"Ya mean ya got beauty spots in your eyes?"

Michaela bestowed him a beaming, grateful smile, "I never thought of it that way, but you're right…"

"Course I am. See? Told ya you're pretty _and_ special…"

"I love you."

"Love ya too."

They kissed, affectionately at first, and then Sully moved his kisses to the little brown dot on her jawline, down to the one sitting in the hollow of her throat. Slowly, sensually, teasingly, he proceeded to seek and kiss every beauty mark punctuating her lovely skin. Every few kisses, he moved back up to touch his lips to hers, sometimes briefly, sometimes deeply, passionately. He paid special homage to the spots that were near, or directly on her most pleasing places, quickly becoming quite intoxicated with the taste of her skin, the potent scent of her from both their intense activities from the previous day and night, and her present renewed excitement, her enthusiastic response to his touch, and he couldn't help but being proud to be the one who had succeeded in bringing out her sensuality to such an unexpectedly high level.

Soon, she was panting and moaning and quivering with pleasure and need. She reached for him instinctively, took him in in such fluid movement that the way their bodies met and fit so naturally together was yet another source of wonder and joy in itself…

Their long prelude, during which they had toyed with the limit between the gentle need for emotional closeness and the more imperious one to literally embody the union of their two souls in one, had spiked their senses to the point that it didn't take much effort to accede to their release, and both relished the afterglow of their loving, matched by the sun bathing their entwined bodies in its luminous warmth.

Another hour passed, quietly resting, listening to the other's heartbeat and soft breathing. They derived a powerful sense of oneness just from the contact of their skins pressed close; the sweet, affectionate, almost unconscious nuzzling and stroking; inhaling the unique scent of their loving lingering in the air, on the bed sheets, on their very skins; kissing again… and again… They wanted to remain trapped in their cocoon, with the security of being quite alone, shut out from the rest of the world. They needed to draw out their intimacy until they would have to say goodbye to it for who knew how long. Neither had expected they would feel that way at that point in their marriage, that they would almost dread going back home.

The thought alone made Michaela nestle further into her husband's embrace, the need for emotional and physical oneness still overpowering. She quivered a little, battling a strange feeling of nostalgia as well as a fierce possessiveness. She couldn't have explained it clearly had Sully asked her what was the matter, save that she was simply having a hard time coming to terms with the end of such a wonderful time just the two of them. She sensed she hadn't quite fully mastered the woman she had become and thus felt ill-prepared to return to her responsibilities when such a profound change was still unfolding, deep within herself, blossoming but not having completely matured yet.

"What's wrong? Somethin' on yer mind?" Sully did ask, deliberately refraining from using the word _fret_ , as he instinctively knew this was different.

"Nothing's wrong… not exactly…"

"Thinkin' 'bout goin' home tomorrow?"

She smiled as he uncannily voiced her inner thoughts before she did once again, then gave a soft chuckle.

"Mmh-mmh… I… I didn't know… I didn't expect to have such mixed feelings about returning to our everyday life…"

"You fear it's gonna be too different? With me at home all the time?"

"No, no! Not at all!" she protested. "If anything, I love knowing you'll be home every night…"

"But?"

"… These two weeks together, just the two of us…"

"Hard to see 'em end so fast," Sully finished for her "Our honeymoon sure feels too short, don't it?"

"It certainly does… That's what I meant, actually. I was so apprehensive that I might… disappoint you, that… seeing how it's turned out, how close I feel to you now…" Her eyes glistened with mounting tears and her voice broke from the wealth of emotions the she struggled to express in mere words. "I've been living a dream more wonderful than anything I ever imagined our marriage could be."

"I know… I know," he could only answer. How did he understand all too well! There might have been a few glitches, but overall, Michaela had found the right terms: they were indeed living a dream, the kind of which no one could possibly want to wake up from. He then recalled Cloud Dancing's words – _marriage is one of the most important things a man can make in his lifetime. We are the lucky ones. We found women strong enough to carry the weight of a good marriage._ He was the luckiest man indeed, for Michaela wasn't just the strongest woman, but also the most caring and generous soul he had ever known. And he would never forget hearing her say the same about him to the Reverend during their last counselling session. It was humbling and uplifting at the same time.

Reminiscing about the premarital counselling, Sully realized that Michaela never did answer a rather essential question. After another ardent, heart-stopping kiss, he smiled cheekily and said:

"Hey, I've been wonderin'… you never answered the Reverend when he asked ya what made you fall in love with me."

"You didn't let me," she retorted in mock reproach, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. She gave him a playful shove so that he turned on his back, and she propped herself on her elbow to peer down at his beloved face. "You just assumed it was love at first sight for me, just as you said it was for you."

"Wasn't it?" he queried, half teasing, half serious.

"First of all, Sully, surely you can't expect anyone to believe you fell in love with me when you saw me fall down in the mud, at such a distance?"

He smiled a conceding smirk, and answered truthfully:

"Maybe sayin' I fell in love with ya when you fell was a bit far-fetched. The first glimpse I got of ya, was before, you were marchin' to the church, I saw ya talkin' to the Reverend. I wondered what a fancy lady could be doin' there..." He chuckled, "thought ya might be one of them mail order bride, until I saw your bag, then I thought you might be a nurse, or the wife of the doctor the town was waitin' for… When you fell flat on your face. I expected ya to scream or cry, or complain, and wait for somedody to help you… But there was somethin' 'bout the way you picked yourself up on your own and carried on like it was nothin'. So it wasn't love just yet, but you sure got my attention already."

"So when was it?"

"That's easy. When we met at Loren's."

"So soon?"

"Yeah. Not only ya went against all my expectations again by standin' up for Black Kettle, but I was real curious 'bout ya already. I'd heard from Robert E. that not only YOU were the doc, but you had no husband to… _put you back in your place_. You sure were a walkin' scandal, unmarried lady doin' a man's job and comin' out here on her own" he chuckled. "I could tell you had plenty of spunk and that it would be fun to watch ya shake those people up…And then… You got me with those eye's o' yours. If you hadn't turned to put up your notice, I woulda stood there lookin' at ya, and probably made a fool of myself… And you? You felt somethin', then? Or did it come later?"

Michaela took a few second to formulate her answer. She certainly remembered well that first encounter in the Mercantile, and the maelstrom of confusing emotions it had stirred within her.

"I told you – I didn't know what to make of you. I was too shocked to think clearly, let alone _feel_ clearly…"

"Shocked, huh?"

Michaela giggled. "Do you know how the French say _love at first sight_?"

"Tell me?"

" _Coup de foudre_ ," she enunciated carefully, unsure of the correct pronunciation. "It literally means being struck by lightning!" she laughed.

Sully joined in her laughter: "Perfect way of describing it, ain't it?"

"It certainly is," she concurred as she leaned in for a kiss.

As their lips touched, a sharp jolt of electricity sparked between them, as if stating the truth of the phrase. They had to laugh again at the phenomenon.

"And ya knew…" Sully said, resuming their conversation.

"Not immediately. It took me a long time to acknowledge to myself that what I felt for you was love. But looking back now to those first few months, I realize that ever since that moment in the store, you've rarely left my thoughts. I kept wondering about you, what could have brought you to live with the Cheyenne…"

Wordlessly, he took her hand, caressing its back softly with his thumb, his eyes focused solely on her, encouraging her to continue her trip down this special stretch of Memory Lane: their falling in love with each other.

She went on, "Charlotte told me a little of your story, and I remember feeling that overwhelming need to take away your grief. To experience such a strong impulse toward a man I barely knew, and so different from any man I ever met, or expected to meet, was… unsettling, to say the least!" They both chuckled in connivance, and Michaela felt awash with a wave of gratitude. It was so wonderful to confide about her most private thoughts and feelings to her husband the way she would her most trusted friend. But then Sully _was_ her very best friend, since the beginning, wasn't he?

"Then there was that time you helped me find Brian, we were sitting in that tepee… when you put your blanket on my shoulders and I felt something that frightened me, it was so… so powerful, I realized I was physically attracted to you, and it was all I could do to tell myself that nothing would ever come out of it… After you brought Black Kettle to the homestead, I thought about you daily, wondering if you were safe… if maybe you had left Colorado Springs for good, and this possibility made me so sad that I had no other choice but to admit it to myself: I was in love with you…"

They kissed gently and hugged for a few minutes, until Michaela recalled another incident and she let out a giggle.

"What's funny?"

"Do you remember when Colleen was sweet on you?"

"Huh, yeah, but it's gotta do with anythin'?"

"One day, at the clinic, we were routine cleaning my instruments, when suddenly, out of the blue, she asked me if I was in love with you…"

"She did?"

"Mmh-mm. I dropped whatever I was drying in the basin, it was so unexpected!"

"Was it after she went to that mine, or before?"

"Right before."

"She was checkin' her competition, then?" he joshed.

"Putting it that way… I suppose she was," she answered with a wistful chuckle.

"I reckon ya didn't tell her the truth, huh?"

"I couldn't… I was still so unsure about how you felt about me – I was beginning to think that you didn't truly mean to kiss me on my birthday… that perhaps you regretted it…"

"You really thought that? That the kiss meant nothin' ta me?"

"Now I know better, of course, but back then? I was only confused…" That reminded her of something else that had puzzled her during their premarital counseling, but hadn't had the leisure to address up until now.

"Sully? What did you mean when you said we had already kissed before we went to Harding's mill? I mean, how can you remember us kissing then when I don't?"

Sully suddenly looked a little sheepish.

"I thought you had felt it… when you got the grippe, right after your fever broke and you came 'round, I kissed ya… on the forehead, mind ya…"

She perked up at this, a spark of recognition flashing in her eyes.

"So it wasn't a dream… I always thought I imagined it, because I felt so safe with you, when the way I've been raised had taught me I shouldn't… I felt your presence beside me all through my illness, but after I recovered, I convinced myself that it couldn't be true… It would have meant too much. It was easier for me to believe it was just a fantasy."

"Did I tell ya that after the healing ceremony, I asked Cloud Dancin' if you'd live, and he answered it was up to me…"

"He did?"

"Huh-uh. Ain't surprisin', come to think of it. He's always known you an' me were meant to be."

"So it seems," she concluded as they both leant closer for a kiss. Sweet, light, tender, it brought on another, and another, each growing a little longer and deeper, yet never escalating to the point of no return. When they parted, there was no breathless frustration, only quiet contentment, in which Michaela found the courage to do what she knew she had to.

"Sully?"

"Mmh?"

"As much as I don't want to, I truly think we'd better start packing, don't you?"

"You're right," he agreed readily, giving her cheek a loving peck. "But what d'ya think we take a bath first?"

She nodded a trifle bashfully as she acknowledged their disheveled and sweaty state and the wise practicality of his suggestion. The evidence of their marital activities was everywhere, from their appearance to the disarray of the bedsheets and the mess across their room, the scattered pieces of clothing dotting the carpet from their loving the night before reminding her of her unprecedented abandon and its resulting pleasure… Watching her husband confidently rise and circle the bed, she wished she could be as comfortable in her skin as Sully was in his, as unselfconscious about their sexual life as he was. There were still moments where she felt retrospectively embarrassed about the way her body manifested her need for him and her enjoyment of his kisses, his caresses, and how fulfilling it was when he moved inside her; the way she reveled in the knowledge she was pleasuring him, too. Sully didn't seem bothered in the least, quite the contrary: he had made it plain that he considered her reactions to be not only natural and healthy, but satisfying to him as well. Yet the seed of doubt planted by her upbringing and her observation of the conjugal dynamics between couples she knew wouldn't wither for good, like the stubborn weeds in her garden, it kept reappearing despite her efforts to get rid of it.

Less than half an hour later, the hotel staff had left discreetly after filling the tub, leaving the couple alone again. They quickly shed the hotel bathrobes, and stepped into the hot water. Michaela had readily agreed they shared the tub, yet, her unusual brooding manner since they had gotten out of bed made Sully wonder if she was uncomfortable or embarrassed about something.

"You all right?"

"Mmmh? … um, yes, why do you ask?"

"You've been awful quiet…"

"I was just thinking…"

"'Bout what?"

She hesitated.

Sully motioned to her to come closer, and she turned around, leaning back against his chest. He enfolded her lovingly in his arms, his chin resting on her shoulder.

"'Bout what?" he repeated in her ear.

"… I know it sounds silly but I… I can't – I mean… I couldn't help but notice something, Sully. I know you told me that… well, it didn't matter that I didn't know what to do when… you know…"

"When we make love," he finished for her. "and it didn't last long, you got – I mean, _we_ got the hang of it pretty fast." Her felt her cheek warming against his, then contract briefly in a small smile.

"Yes… that's just it. _I_ have got the hang of it, as you say, because _you_ have guided me all the way, teaching me how to be with you, to show you I love you in ways I could have never imagined… to let go of my preconceived notions and understand the difference between what is proper and what is right and healthy…"

"…And?"

"And I realize how lucky I am…. How exceptional you are," she emphasized as she sank a little further in his embrace. Sully swallowed hard, moved by her praise yet feeling hardly deserving.

"Maybe because you _are_ pretty special yourself," he managed to say. "Make me wanna be the best man I can…"

"You're too modest, I love that about you… Still, I'd like to know…" _Oh dear, how can I ask about this without it coming out all wrong?_ she mused.

"Hm?"

"How did you _know_?"

"How did I know what?"

"Er— I'm sorry," she whispered, upset with herself for spoiling the loving, playful mood with her incessant need for clear answers and her inability to quell her curiosity about her husband's love life before her that would explain why he was so different from most men. She should have known better than opening a potential can of worms.

"Don't be. But I can't answer ya, if I don't know what you mean."

"Hum... When I say you're exceptional, I mean… Why so many men treat even the women they love as inferiors, like they're their property, and you don't? During the past two weeks, you've put my needs first… What made you feel differently about… conjugal duties? You… you told me you wished your father had told you, but never said WHO taught you about _that_ …" She waited his answer with bated breath. The way she had asked such a thing felt so childish, so immature, yet her analytical mind wouldn't let the matter rest.

Sully suddenly understood what she was getting at. It wasn't the first time Michaela wondered about how he knew about procreation. His mother had only ever told him the shortened version of where babies came from the one time he had observed one of their neighbors with a huge belly…

His wife's awkwardness about formulating her interrogations was so endearing that before answering her true question, he had to kiss her long and hard. Then he paused, both to catch his breath and to organize his own thoughts.

"I suppose… Growin' up with just my Ma, seein' how hard it was for her, I promised myself that if I ever had a family on my own one day, I'd never give up on my wife, I'd help her with our kids… that I'd never let her shoulder all the responsibility alone…"

Michaela gave his arm a sympathetic squeeze. She dared not interrupt him, though she inwardly scolded herself for being so curious about his past that she was forcing him to delve into memories that were possibly still raw and painful, and she feared he might suffer from another bout of migraine like a week before. But at the same time, she felt honored to be into his confidence when he was so typically quiet and interested only in the _here and now_ , as he had once told her. She genuinely wondered about the mystery that was the man she loved, one who had been through so much loss and desolation, and still grew into such a sensitive, open-minded, brave and loving person. Her heart swelled with so many feelings that it felt so much more than love alone, as if the word love itself needed to be redefined to fit all that she felt for her husband.

"I remember something else…Back when Will was still alive," he went on, "we would often go down to the docks to listen to the sailors' tellin' bout their trips, all the countries they visited, the freedom to be at sea… there was that fella who were from India. Musta stayed around for a week, tellin' the legends from his country. One night he talked about how in his country, makin' love wasn't so much about marriage and havin' kids, but about communicatin' with higher spirits, bein' closer to their gods, and how it was considered such a serious subject that it was taught in temples… Will scoffed… but me, I reckon I didn't fully understand what that meant then, but it musta struck a chord in me…. 'Cause later, when the fellas I worked with were beginnin' to boast about how many girls they had, and would talk about what they were doin'… at first when they'd go to the saloon, they'd try talkin' me into comin' along… But I couldn't do that… what I saw and heard 'round the campfires never sat right with me, treating women like objects… It was better when I lived with the Cheyenne… they, too, believe that love is a commitment of body an' soul, and that forcin' yourself on a woman, or anybody unable to defend themselves ain't somethin' a man with any honor would do." He swallowed hard again, this time in pain, as he remembered Black Kettle performing joining ceremonies, the newlywed couples listening solemnly to his prayers and his advice as the Father of the tribe.

"I'm sorry," Michaela said again, "I shouldn't have asked."

"It's all right, 'Chaela… Told ya there's nothin' you can't tell me. What I want ya to understand is, when I told ya there are things ya only learn by doin'… Truth is, most of what I learned 'bout love, I been learnin' 'em just by lovin' _you_."

"Oh, Sully –"

"Tell me somethin', what if I had asked ya how come you're so good at kissin'? What would ya say?"

Predictably, she blushed as he turned the tables on her. Yet, it made her apprehend his concept of _learnin' by doin'_ in a new light. She replayed in her mind their first kiss, and the way she had looked at her reflection in the mirror after the party. She had touched her lower lip incredulously, unable to grasp that such a brief physical contact could have elicited such a maelstrom of sensations and triggered such a powerful longing for more… Making love, like kissing, had very little to do with performance and technicity. It was about finding the right person and letting love, trust and respect be their guide, their inspiration. As he had told her on the train two weeks before, they were learning together without maps, their hearts as their compass, without science, her knowledge of anatomy and physiology inconsequent…

Wanting to restore the earlier light-hearted mood rather than dwelling on bittersweet memories, Sully broke into her reflections in a mischievous tone, "Ya know, come to think of it, your Pa's books got me quite an education, too, 'specially Walt Whitman… So maybe you can learn 'bout the birds and the bees outa books, after all… just not medical ones."

His last remark had the desired effect as Michaela broke into quiet chuckles. He laughed right along with her, until she twisted around to seek his lips for a thankful yet apologetic kiss, that quickly deepened and sparked their need for more intimate touch all over again. The washing process would be the perfect excuse for more sensual exploration.

Sully liberally lathered a washcloth then ran it first up one of Michaela's arm and down the other, in torturously slow movements, squeezing the cloth as he lingered across her collarbones to watch the rivulets of sudsy water trickle down her breasts. Her reaction was immediate, her breath hitching in her throat as her skin erupted in goosebumps and her nipples hardened. The sight was lovelier and even more provocative than how Sully had pictured it in his fantasies, prompting his arousal to rise another notch. He couldn't resist the impulse to ditch the cloth and use directly his hands, her body warming rapidly under his caresses. He momentarily lost himself into savoring the exquisitely soft sensation of her soapy, wet skin under his fingers and being hypnotized by her moans of delight.

It wasn't the first time Michaela felt such a mix of desire and cherishment while Sully washed her, yet this time, what she was experiencing at her husband's hands had reached the degree of some sort of torture. She was supremely aware of the way his hands glided over her body, of her heart leaping, of the fine tremors of arousal rippling across her skin. Her need throbbed heavy and urgent in her belly, and she barely stopped herself from directing his touches straight to the juncture of her thighs. Fortunately, it wasn't long before her husband realized the state she was in and provided her with the adequate relief.

Sully was completely fascinated by this extraordinary orchid made of exquisitely sensitive flesh, so responsive to the slightest simulation, the fragrance and flavor of which was so intoxicating that he'd gladly get drunk on it; he could spend hours, days, weeks discovering and exploring its countless mysteries… but he'd need at least another month of honeymoon for this purpose only!

"That feels good?" he asked in a sultry whisper as he skillfully stroked the petals of her sex that swelled under his touch. The eager nod with which she answered and the hazy shimmer of her eyes as she craned her neck to look at him told him everything he needed to know.

The novelty of the sensations from the warm water added to the reassuring familiarity of his caresses resulted in a staggering climax – as if she'd been struck by thousands of _coups de foudre_. Perhaps she did die for a couple of seconds, her consciousness blacking out completely, all her nerve endings going numb…

But no, there she was, slumped into his arms like a rag doll, slowly recovering her senses with deep heaving sighs. She soon realized he was holding her hand, their fingers intimately intertwined so, in a burst of lucidity from her still somewhat foggy mind, she mused this gesture was so perfectly symbolic of who they were – _This is_ _ **us**_ , she thought. They had held hands like this so often in the past, as they began courting, more and more during their engagement, and now that they were married, it was almost permanent, and so powerfully significant since the moment she'd given him her virginity…

As if he had heard her thoughts, he brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed her ring finger, to which she answered with a soft peck on his mouth.

"Here… let's switch places… my turn," she eventually uttered, her voice laced with a seductive hoarseness.

"You don't got to –"

"It's the least I can do."

"Told ya I ain't keepin' score, 'Chaela," Sully protested.

"I know. But what if I just want to take care of you, cherish you, not as gratitude, but because I enjoy it as well?"

Sully chuckled at her irrefutable logic. "You sure know how to get your point across!"

Satisfied with this, Michaela scooted around to the other side of the tub so that Sully could move as well. She smiled when she heard his pleased hum when she mimicked his actions, using her hands rather than the washcloth to lather his shoulders and arms.

As she rinsed away the foam, she contemplated his strong back, its powerful muscles, the skin there tanned and taught yet surprisingly silken to the touch, and she wondered if he derived the same pleasant sensations from touching her flesh as she experienced when she touched his.

The only tiny blemish in the present spectacle was the small, discolored spot sitting at the edge of his right shoulder blade. She had seen it before, yet… she hadn't truly paid it attention until now. It looked like a bullet hole hastily but cleanly sewn up and too recent in aspect for it to have been sustained before they had met…

"Sully?"

"Hm?"

"The scar on you shoulder? How did you get it? When?"

"Oh, that?" He turned to face her once more, his expression guarded, while he was berated himself for not foreseeing this issue sooner. He should have known Michaela would sooner or later notice his scar and realize she hadn't been the one to stitch him up this time. There was no easy way to tell this without risking upsetting her.

"Happened right after you went to Soda Springs when they got hit by the grippe. Came across a small band of Dog Soldiers attackin' railroad workers, throwin' dynamite… I tried to stop 'em… Soldiers arrived, and I musta been shot in the cross fire. I don't remember much, only that when I came to my senses again, Colleen had dug the bullet outta me and sewn me up real good…"

At first too stunned to speak, Michaela tried to make sense out of Sully's account.

"But….Why— why did you never tell me what happened?"

"Huh… we didn't want ya to fret. 'Sides when ya came back, you were exhausted an' hungry, and the kids an' me we were so happy to have ya back, it was somethin' to celebrate, not to get upset 'bout."

"I can understand why you wouldn't tell me the minute I arrived, but later in the evening… I would have made sure it was properly taken care of… not that I don't trust Colleen," she hastened to say, "she obviously did a wonderful job…"

"That she did. She took care o'me almost as good as you… Told her you would've been as proud of her as I was."

His comment momentarily disarmed her, and she leant forward to kiss him.

"Of course I am," she said. Then her smile dissolved into a puzzled frown. "But what were you doing there? Who was watching the children, then?"

Sully suddenly looked very uncomfortable, and steeled himself for a highly probable outburst of anger. "Matthew was workin', Colleen was mindin' the Clinic, an' Brian— well, he was with me…"

"WHAT?"

He cringed inwardly, relieving the guilt he had felt for weeks after that scuffle with the army that Michaela might have come home to find Brian seriously wounded or maybe killed.

"He talked me inta goin' treasure huntin'… Couldn't tell him no, so I showed 'im a cave, then just as we were 'bout to go back home, we heard war cries and shootin' guns… I made sure Brian stayed outta the way with Wolf, and I ran to the site… an'… I don't remember much what happened until I came 'round…

Michaela remained silent for a moment, realizing that if she had been there, it wouldn't have made much of a difference. Sully and Brian were so inseparable, they would have gone treasure hunting or maybe fishing whether she was around or not. Furthermore, without Colleen's skills, Sully could have bled to death or die of infection. She shuddered in horror as she pictured how different her return form Soda Springs would have been with Sully gone forever.

"I understand now… why you said the children took good care of you…"

"They sure did. Not just because they nursed me back to health, but… ya know… I felt like I was part of a family again… that's when I began to think 'bout askin' ya to marry me."

"You did?" she whispered, moved, as she resumed her task of washing him.

"Yeah… shortly after that, I started lookin' for a big piece of land where I could build a house big enough for the whole family… and somewhere 'long the way, maybe us havin' a baby together…"

He gazed at her with so much love and hope, she prayed right there and then with all her might that they had gotten pregnant already. In fact, her heart did a little summersault of anticipation as she remembered she should have started bleeding the day before, yet her hope was immediately dashed by the voice of reason. Her monthly could simply have been delayed by the dramatic change in her habits…

Meanwhile the water was no longer hot enough to be agreeable, so Sully suggested:

"We'd better finish up here, water's getting' cold."

She nodded ruefully, once more upset with herself as she noticed that Sully was no longer excited.

"I'm sorry I spoiled the mood again…"

"You didn' spoiled nothin'. No matter where we are, or the hour of the day, I like everythin' we do together, talkin,' havin' breakfast—"

"Which we missed again…" she chimed in wryly.

"Well, yeah…Look, we still got all afternoon and evenin' to ourselves… that's plenty o' time to pack up, talk some more… _play_ some more…"

There was an unmistakable suggestiveness in his tone and the twinkle in his eyes. Michaela gulped, and unconsciously ran her tongue over her lips

"Play?" she croaked, then giggled a little nervously at how ridiculous her voice had sounded. She cast another look at her husband, and then they burst into laughter.

* * *

After a quick brunch in the hotel tea room, they went out for a last short stroll in _their_ park, though this time they refrained from kissing, having spotted the intrusive and stern keeper fulfilling his duty nearby. Undeterred, Michaela and Sully slowly ambled along a tree-lined path that led to the rose garden, where they took their time breathing in the wonderful fragrances of the ones which were in full bloom, admiring the variety of colors and shapes, amusing themselves with all the different names.

"Wish I could take a picture of ya right now… a rose among the roses," Sully said lovingly, as he pushed a stray wisp of hair behind her ear. She smiled shyly, humbled by his compliments as usual. "Or maybe have a paintin' made, an' I'd hang it in the sittin' room at home, above the mantle…"

"In that case, I'd want a portrait of you, standing proud at the lookout you showed me when we began courting… to put on my desk at the clinic. And one of us together, too!"

Sully instantly reached for his billfold. He didn't have much money left and wasn't sure he could afford a photograph… not to mention that it might not get developed before they departed from Denver, but one glance to his wife was enough to convince him it was worth finding out whether it was possible.

He decided they would make a detour via the pond, where he had previously noticed a little canvas tent similar to the one Daniel Watkins had set up in Colorado Springs. When he told her of his plan, Michaela enthusiastically followed him. It would be so wonderful to have a souvenir of their first days as husband and wife!

The photographer was a little taken aback at first to see such an unlikely couple bursting into his stall, all smiles, their hands tightly clasped as if they'd never let go of one another. As Sully had suspected, it was too late, yet the young man, always eager to make a sale and a little profit, offered to mail them the photograph for what he called _a minimal extra charge_. Compared to what Elizabeth had paid for their wedding photographs, the park photographer' fees were reasonable; therefore, Sully saw no harm in indulging in this one last luxury…

The photographer agreed to move his camera to the rose garden, searched for a spot with just the right amount of light and within a few minutes, the picture was taken.

* * *

As they entered the lobby they were hailed by Harold Whitaker, the chief clerk of the hotel reception: a telegram from Rebecca had just arrived. Michaela couldn't wait until they were back to their suite and plopped down in one of the lobby's striped velvet couches. She feverishly broke the seal and scanned its content.

Her mother and eldest sister had managed to catch up with Marjorie in Saint Louis, and the three Quinn ladies would be making the rest of the trip to Boston together. Rebecca didn't give details in the telegram, but promised to write her youngest sister as soon as she would be home.

Being reminded of her sister's troubles cast a somber shadow over Michaela's previous light-heartedness, the last thing Sully wanted for their last evening alone!

Speaking of being alone, they weren't at the moment…He couldn't explain what it could be, or who it was, but for the third time since that time in the opera, and then while they were making love in front of the fire the night before, he suddenly experienced that same unsettling impression of a hostile presence in their vicinity. Wordlessly, he took Michaela's hand, and led her back up to their room, doing his best to shake off the nasty impression of being watched by someone with possibly ill intentions. All he wanted was for his Heartsong and himself to enjoy their last hours of privacy to their fullest, and he would not let anything spoil his plans!


	27. Epilogue

In the early summer twilight, a couple stood in a tight embrace on the balcony of the largest suite of a Denver hotel. In less than twelve hours they would board the train that would bring them back home for a whole new chapter of their life. Inside, their things were packed, the trunk and bags sitting by the door. Though it wasn't the most comfortable option, Sully had chosen to wear his wedding tuxedo for the trip. Michaela would put on her stylish travelling outfit, so he wanted to look his best beside her.

He still could not shake off the menacing impressions he had had earlier. As much as he would have liked to dismiss them as maybe the manifestation of his suppressed worry regarding Cloud Dancing's fate, his instinct knew better. The four years he had spent living among the Cheyenne and learning their ways, sharing their spirituality, had taught him to pay attention to even the slightest disturbance and _feel_ the enemy coming. However, he'd been unable to locate the culprit so far, but intuition told him it had to do with Michaela as well. If there was one reason he couldn't wait to be home, it was to get away from the city, the people and their silly social conventions, their ogling eyes and prejudiced minds.

Yet, he shared his wife's thoughts about going home after fourteen days of bliss, leisure and luxury such as most people, even fortunate ones, seldom knew. It had been a dream that even the wisest man wouldn't want to wake up from.

He wasn't too anxious about the "unknown" they were facing, quite the contrary, he had full confidence that they would manage living all under the same roof. He had already found his place in the family, sharing near all their meals, sometimes staying to sleep in the barn or by the fireplace. The real big differences would be that they'd share a much bigger dwelling, without Matthew but with each member of the family having their own room… and privacy. And now that he knew just how _compatible_ he and Michaela were, as partners and as lovers, he was sure they would weather whatever the future held for them, and he was eagerly anticipating the next step of their life together: having a child of their own, maybe two if they were lucky, and watching their family grow…

A soft, cool breeze delicately enveloped them with the sweet fragrances of the nearby trees and flowers, the tiny tufts of pollen dancing merrily around in the fading light.

"You know, my wish did come true," Michaela said whimsically, breaking the companionable silence between them.

At first Sully was not sure what wish she was referring to, till the dreamy look on his beloved's face as she caught a tuft in her cupped hand then released it to the wind by blowing it away, reminded him of that stroll in the woods right after she had returned from Boston, when he had handed her the dandelion to wish upon.

"Mine did, too," he answered, giving her temple a light, loving peck.

She looked up at him, her eyes shining with gratitude and joy.

"What did you wish for?" she softly asked.

"We had just fought 'bout somethin' silly, and I just wanted us to make up and be together – always…" Fairly certain he now knew what that wish was, but wanting to hear it, Sully hesitated slightly before adding, "And ya? Now you can tell me."

"I wished that you'd be the right man for me… there may have been times when I doubted it, but now… I know that there could be no one else but you."

She rose on her tiptoes to kiss him with all the love, all the passion and devotion she felt for this extraordinary man who was now and forever more her husband, her soulmate, her lover and partner.

Well she pulled back, her cheeks were becomingly flushed, her eyes sparkling and her smile lopsided with amusement.

"What's funny?" asked Sully, intrigued by her change of mood. Maybe she was tipsy from the champagne they had just had with dessert… or then again, she might be simply giddy with happiness, like he would have been without the nagging feeling someone was snooping around them.

"You'll think it's silly…"

"Try me."

"Remember when we tracked the turkey right after?"

"Hu-huh," he nodded, then suddenly he broke into a mischievous grin, believing he knew where this was going.

"Well," she went on with unmitigated pride, " I don't know how I managed, but I caught the lone wolf!"

"So, I'm just a prize to ya? Not much of one!" he returned in a mock self-depreciating tone.

"Quite the contrary, I assure you. But I'm glad I'm the only one who knows just how precious you are!"

And with that she kissed him again, and he kissed her back with equal passion and gratitude.

Night was falling, the air getting too cool for them to stay outside much longer. Silently they left the balcony, and entering the room where so many memories were made, they put on their nightclothes and reclined on their bed. Neither wanted to go to sleep already as reason dictated, yet there was little else left to say or do with their departure so imminent. After a few minutes, too agitated to lie in bed quietly, Michaela rose and went to stand by the fireplace. To occupy her hands, she stoked the fire, then remained rooted to the spot, hoping the flames would maybe hypnotize her and make her sleepy.

"Can't sleep?"

She startled, more from the sudden feel of his presence right behind her than from the sound of his voice in the otherwise relative quiet of their room.

"Afraid not," she answered with a sigh. It was so silly, this mix of nostalgia and nervousness that wouldn't let her rest.

"How 'bout I tell ya a story, huh?" he suggested playfully, taking hold of her hand and giving it a teasing pull, motioning to the inviting softness of the settee.

Had it been uttered in another context or manner, no doubt that Michaela would have retreated behind her serious façade and protest she was too old or too busy to listen to a bedtime story. But on this last night in their private haven, she felt a sort of desperation to experience anything as long as it meant they enjoyed those last few hours together to their fullest. Besides, she knew what an enthralling storyteller Sully could be, and she could barely contain her curiosity.

Just as she was about to sit down, he stopped her by tugging at her nightgown. "Er, I need ya to take this off, first."

She froze in uncertainty, her self-consciousness returning about how ignorant she still felt regarding some of the most intimate marital matters. Did the phrase _telling a bedtime story_ have a different meaning between married people? Was it a metaphor for a way of pleasing her husband she had yet to learn?

 _Trust me_.

Momentarily confused, she wasn't sure whether he had truly uttered the words, if it was his spirit talking to hers or her heart that was repeating what he had told her many a time. Either way, she trusted him with every fiber of her being, so she resolutely raised the garment over her head, and walked into his embrace.

Sully hadn't missed her hesitation, and wondered if asking her to take off her nightgown had been wise, especially considering he didn't truly have a story ready to tell her, only a vague idea upon which he would improvise as he went along. He didn't mean for it to necessarily end up in making love, he only intended them to just enjoy some _snugglin'_ , skin to skin, one last time.

He didn't know if it was the reflection of the flames or something else that made her eyes blaze when she looked up at him, but suddenly any Cheyenne tale he could have told her vanished from his mind, wiped off by his acute awareness of her. Her nudity didn't solely stir him in a sensual way. It was more than unquenchable desire, more than fierce tenderness and protectiveness that drew him to this woman. She had a power over him, always had since the beginning, but that power seemed to have grown beyond all measure. For two weeks, he had been focused on making her comfortable with their intimacy, reveling in his own joy and pride to be married to her and enjoying her undivided attention away from her duties as a doctor, a town council member and most of all a mother. He hadn't paused to reflect upon how all that had transpired in the past fortnight had changed him, and the life he used to know. Not so much the unexpectedly wide realm of pleasures found in the physical component of their relationship, but the baring of his soul to hers, and hers to his, whether they were talking, or they let their bodies do the talking. Their commitment to each other demanded to be absolute, unconditional and everlasting, nothing less. He would not, could not, _ever_ , walk away, bound to her by something far more meaningful than their wedding vows and the consummation of their marriage…

The only story he could think of presently wasn't Cheyenne, but from the true India, where lovemaking was celebrated as an art and means of communication with the gods. As he tried to recollect all the essence of what the lascar had said, suddenly his keen senses perceived the faint echo of music, in which he finally found the inspiration he needed. He felt that it would be the perfect conclusion to their honeymoon.

"Wait, I got a better idea…"

Her eyebrows rose in silent query.

"Will ya dance with me?" he suggested.

Michaela knew that Sully didn't mean they'd get dressed in their finery all over again, go down to the main hall, or venture out again. The seductive tone of his voice and the caress of his hand on hers were too reminiscent of that other evening, early into their honeymoon, when they had _danced_ so intimately that she would never be able to waltz with him without thinking of how they had made love that night. Yet, the invitation was subtle, letting her know that he wouldn't take offense if she declined. But how could she refuse?

"I'd love to," she answered, her countenance radiating with sensuality.

There was no need to count one-two-three out loud this time because they knew the other's rhythm well enough to synchronize their kisses and caresses. There was no reserve when they swayed together, their skin rubbing in the most electrifying way, their breath mingling in a heated kiss. They waltzed following their own cadence, their own music, unhurriedly allowing the warmth of desire to turn into a raging fire.

There was little shyness when Michaela took the lead and guided her husband to sit on the sofa; no hesitation in her slow, purposeful movements as she knelt between his legs. There was a fiery determination in her eyes, in her touches, her kisses, that drove him out of his mind as surely as the erotic sensations she ignited in him.

He didn't fully abandon himself though. Fortunately, it seemed that the past two weeks of intense and frequent solicitation had strengthened his vigor and endurance rather than wearing them out, and he wanted to take full advantage of his capacities. He gently interrupted his wife's ministrations before he might lose control and pulled her up, so she was straddling his lap. She was panting, her eyes shining with the dark, heavy gleam of arousal. When he made no further move, she needed no other nudge, no better encouragement than the naked hunger in his eyes, and she only had to wiggle a little forward to take him in, welcoming the sensation of completeness with a blissful sigh.

Now that she was more seasoned when it came to expressing her desire and her affection; now that he didn't have to be so mindful of her insecurities and inexperience, an infinite expanse of sensual exploration lay open before them.

"Let's dance some more," he rasped as he sprang to his feet, lifting her up effortlessly by cupping the back of her thighs, while she instinctively wrapped her arms and legs round his body. Holding her securely to him, he resumed the waltzing motion in direction of the bed, where they would be much more comfortable, both laughing softly amidst lust-fueling kisses.

However, as if the spirit of the Hindustani sailor, with his tales about the sacred nature of human love, had been invoked by Sully's reminiscences and was watching over the lovers like a benevolent genie, the tempo of their dance shifted to an even slower pace. Their union was no longer so much about giving and receiving sexual gratification as it was about letting the other know how much they were loved and cherished. They were both feeling the same way they had after sharing Whitman's poetry, that unspeakable surge of alternate consciousness that would lead them to another dimension of love. This time, their awareness of each other seemed clearer and brighter, both their physical and spiritual connection magnified by how well they knew each other, body and soul. Sometimes they would change positions, or they would simply pause a few minutes to just kiss and hold hands and murmur sweet nothings. When one of them, or both, reached a peak of pleasure, still their embrace miraculously continued, as if it wasn't a release of sexual tension, but a mere threshold on the way to something more powerful…

And powerful, the conclusion of their honeymoon was. It wasn't until the wee hours of the morning that they finally separated, breathless, speechless, sated at last… Not only had their ultimate dance of love lasted much longer than their first, but it would stand out, engraved into their memories, as their most pleasurable experience of all for a long, long time…

* * *

_Friday, June 3r_ _d_ _, 1870_

They nearly missed the morning train. They would have if not for their friend John, who had convinced the conductor to wait for them for a couple more minutes and helped them load their trunk and bags into the luggage area before heading home himself as he had finished his shift.

In their hurry, neither Michaela nor Sully had the luxury to feel any more anxiousness or regrets about leaving the place where their love had so magnificently bloomed, and it was only with sighs of relief that they sank onto their seat, blissfully oblivious of the annoyed stares from the other passengers.

Propriety meant that the most intimate contact they could afford in such close quarters was holding hands, or looking in each other's eyes. They hadn't slept near enough to recover, yet their exhaustion wasn't enough to mar the lingering afterglow of the magical night that had so splendidly concluded their honeymoon.

After a few minutes, however, Sully felt once more a disturbing presence, closer than ever before. But how could that be? He cast glances at the other passengers around them, but they all seemed harmless, though the man sitting right across from them stood out like a sore thumb, as he was so obviously from back East. He unpleasantly reminded Sully of the arrogant and pompous men he had come across both in Boston - including his own brothers-in-law – and in the highest social circles in Washington. The man was clearly absorbed in his copy of the Washington Post, so Sully dismissed him as the possible source of the malevolent spirit that had been lurking around them for the past couple of days.

"Something wrong, Sully?" Michaela whispered, keenly sensing her husband's unease.

"Nope. I just can't wait to be home. " He leaned closer and whispered in her ear, "Three hours without bein' allowed to kiss ya, that's three hours wasted in my book!"

"Sully!" she half protested, half giggled, her cheeks flushing, Sully smiled indulgently at her, and brought her palm to his lips.

"At least I can still do that," he mouthed, so that even the passengers right in front or behind them could not hear, "and tell you 'I love you'."

"I love you, too," she answered in the same manner.

Suddenly, her expression changed from loving to crestfallen.

"What?" Sully asked. Had she seen, or felt the venomous creature that seemed to follow them?

"The roses! We forgot them!"

Relief washed over Sully that the cause of her outburst wasn't too serious, but still, he gave her cheek a soft caress, and said with a helpless shrug: "Afraid there's nothin' we can do 'bout that, now. I'm sorry, 'Chaela." His light, loving touch and use of his pet name for her had their desired, placating effect and she soon forgot her disappointment as she snuggled against his shoulder.

The rest of the trip went without a hitch, though the hostile spirit could still be felt at times, like tiny, sharp, invisible knives directed to Sully's neck and back. He hoped that whoever it was, they would be continuing their journey South and leave them alone. If not, he would have to perform a cleansing ceremony…and for that, he needed Cloud Dancing…

Finally, the train pulled into Colorado Springs' station. Sully rushed to get out of the stuffy train carriage and most of all away from the irksome phantom.

Before they stepped out, however, he cast one last look at his wife.

"Ready?" he asked quietly, almost breathlessly.

She couldn't find her voice as the magnitude of what was to come overwhelmed her, but she nodded nevertheless and followed him, their hands clasped tightly once more.

A new life was awaiting them.

**Author's Note:**

> For the readers who like music to enhance the mood of a story, here's the exhaustive playlist I've been listening to as I was working on NIWS:  
> • Revenge Love theme - Jack Nitzsche  
> • Concerto de Aranjuez - Rodrigo  
> • Cello suite n°1 - Bach (yes, classical music can be terribly sexy)  
> • Disappearing into you - Raphael  
> • Serpent - Raphael  
> • Divine Passion - Raphael  
> • Old - Moby  
> • Novio - Moby  
> • I Like it - Moby  
> • Cocoon - Björk  
> • Harm of Will - Björk  
> • Pagan Poetry - Björk  
> • Sweet, sweet intuition - Björk  
> • Generous Palmstroke - Bjoörk  
> • Touchness - Enigma  
> • Smell of Desire - Enigma  
> • Push the Limits - Enigma  
> • Indus - Dead can Dance  
> • Devorzhum - Dead Can Dance  
> • Moments in Love (7" version) - The Art of Noise  
> • Soothe my Soul - Depeche Mode  
> • I want you now - Depeche Mode  
> • Blue Dress - Depeche Mode  
> • Higher Love - Depeche Mode  
> • Corps Miel - End of Orgy  
> • Mallarme - In The Nursery  
> • In February - The Noveller  
> • Flames - Vast  
> • Lost inside of you - Barbra Streisand  
> • What your Soul sings - Massive Attack  
> • Velvet Morning - The Verve  
> • The Power of Love - Frankie Goes to Hollywood  
> • Lust - Tori Amos  
> • Everything - Lifehouse


End file.
